THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/edmondhiscousinOOkockiala 


l^ifl?.  Of  C4L1T.  UBBAHY,  LOS  UfGSLKS 


-D.    IC 


The  greatest  happiness  a  grisette  can   experience  is   co   make 
the  conquest  of  an  actor. 

Photogravure  from  Original   Drawing  by   William  Glacickns. 


The  Works  of 

CHARLES    PAUL    DeKOCK 

With   a   General   Introduction   by 

JULES   CLARETIE 

Edmond  and  His  Cousin 

Translated   into    English  by 

EDITH   MARY   NORRIS 


THE   FREDERICK  J.    QUINBY    COMPANY 

boston  LONDON  PARIS 


Edition 
Litniitd  to  One  Thtutand  Copitt 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
The  Frederick  J.  Quinby  Company 

All  rights  reserved 


Pkintkd  on  Old  Stratford  Paper  mad>  bt 

MiTTINSAGUX   PaPSR  COMPANY 


Printers  and  Binders,  Norwood,  Mass. 
U.S.A. 


SZMKANIta 

pa 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 
The  Interior  of  a  Household i 

CHAPTER  II 
M.  Pause 12 

CHAPTER  III 
Freaks  of  Fortune 29 

CHAPTER   IV 
The  Bringuesingue  Family.     A  Grand  Dinner    .       44 

CHAPTER  V 
A  Proposition.    Self-Sacrifice 62 

CHAPTER   VI 
Marriage 81 

Petit-Trick  the  Breton 108 

A  Country  Excursion 147 

The  Slides  of  a  Magic  Lantern 177 


2130679 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Grisettes 184 

The  Two  Husbands 193 

Wat  Tyler 200 

A  Little  Innocent  Game 209 

The  Husbands 212 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  greatest  happiness  a  grisette  ca|^  ex- 
perience IS  TO  make  the  conquest  of  an 
actor. 

(See  page  192) Frontispiece 

Photogravure  from  original  drawing  by  William  Glackens. 

PAGE. 

Edmond  rose  and  walked  about  the  room     .     23 

Photogravure  from  original  drawing  by  William  Glackens. 

He  knelt  beside  Constance's  bed  ....     105 

Photogravure  from  original  drawing  by  William  Glackens. 

"  Papa,  carry  me  —  take  me  up  in  your  arms  "     226 
Photogravure  from  original  drawing  by  William  Glackens. 


CHAPTER   I 

The  Interior  of  a  Household 

Some  people  are  in  the  habit  of  doubting  every- 
thing, many  others  turn  everything  into  ridicule,  and 
a  very  great  number  consider  themselves  qualified 
to  understand  and  judge  of  everything.  It  is  con- 
venient to  doubt,  for  then  one  need  not  investi- 
gate. Thus  I  have  seen  a  good  many  people  shrug 
their  shoulders  when  people  spoke  to  them  of  the 
distance  of  the  sun  from  the  earth;  they  answered 
that  no  one  had  been  able  to  go  to  the  sun  and  ascer- 
tain this  and,  starting  from  this  principle,  they  re- 
fused to  believe  in  astronomy.  The  sect  of  the 
Pyrrhoneans  is  numerous,  "  Plus  negare  potest 
asinus  quam  probare  philosophus." 

To  turn  everything  into  ridicule  is  still  easier. 
By  Jove  !  it  is  by  making  game  of  others  that  so 
many  people  in  the  world  gain  a  reputation  for 
wit.  Poor  wit  that,  of  which  the  shallowest  brain 
has  always  enough  and  to  spare.  There  is  a  ridic- 
ulous side  to  everything  if  one  wishes  to  look  for 
it ;  even  the  sublime  is  not  exempt  (above  all  the 
sublimity  of  our  epoch).  If  you  Hke  you  can  find 
something  to  ridicule  as  you  witness  the  represen- 
tation of  a  masterpiece  of  art,  as  you  also  can  in 

r  Vol.  XX        I 


2         EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

listening  to  an  academic  discourse;  nothing  is 
necessary  but  the  disposition. 

Then,  finally,  there  are  people  who  are  doubt- 
ful of  nothing ;  that  is  to  say,  who  believe  them- 
selves to  possess  capacity,  talent,  a  vocation  for 
anything  and  everything.  That  which  they  do 
not  know  is  that  which  they  did  not  take  the 
trouble  of  learning,  but  it  was  only  for  them  to 
set  themselves  to  it  and  they  would  have  excelled 
anyone  at  it ;  that  which  they  do  not  do  is  that 
which  they  do  not  care  to  take  the  trouble  to  do; 
for,  I  repeat,  they  possess  innate  knowledge,  they 
have  genius  for  anything,  they  could  make  gold 
—  if  they  wished  to  make  it.  In  the  mean  time, 
they  will  borrow  a  crown  of  you,  because  ordina- 
rily those  people  who  know  how  to  do  everything 
cannot  find  a  way  of  earning  their  living. 

To  what  does  this  preamble  tend?  you  wish 
me  to  tell  you,  perhaps  ?  Well,  it  means  that 
M.  Edmond  Guerval,  the  young  man  whose  his- 
tory I  am  about  to  relate  to  you,  comes  under  the 
last  head  in  the  category  I  have  cited  to  you.  But, 
before  making  him  better  known  to  you,  permit 
me  to  transport  you  into  a  small  apartment  situ- 
ated on  the  fourth  floor  in  a  rather  handsome 
house  in  the  Faubourg  Poissoniere. 

There,  in  a  room  which  served  at  the  same  time 
for  a  sitting-room  and  bedroom  and  furnished 
very  simply,  but  with  a  good  taste  that  announced 
order  and  easy  circumstances,  three  persons  were 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK  3 

seated  about  a  round  table  on  which  was  a  lamp 
covered  with  a  shade,  for  it  was  evening  in  the 
winter  season.  I  had  a  desire  to  inform  you,  like 
the  watchmen,  as  to  the  hour  and  the  weather. 

First  of  all,  there  was  a  young  person  of  twenty 
or  thereabouts,  a  pretty  brunette  with  soft  black 
eyes  (which  is  not  incompatible),  whose  features, 
without  being  really  regular,  had  an  expression 
which  pleased  and  attracted  immediately.  Her 
hair,  carefully  and  prettily  arranged,  fell  in  great 
curls  at  each  side  of  her  face  but  left  exposed  a 
high  white  brow,  which  indicated  a  mind  in  which 
duplicity  and  falsehood  could  never  find  a  place. 
This  young  girl  was  named  Constance ;  she  was 
the  cousin  of  that  Edmond  Guerval  whom  I  have 
just  told  you  of. 

Near  Constance  sat  another  young  lady  with 
her  hair  drawn,  in  the  Chinese  fashion,  back  from 
her  face.  Picture  to  yourself  one  of  those  ani- 
mated and  bright  faces  on  which  a  smile  is  always 
in  evidence ;  a  medium-sized  but  pleasing  mouth, 
small  but  mischievous  eyes,  a  nose  small  rather 
than  well-cut,  in  fact,  a  comical  rather  than  a  pretty 
face,  and  you  will  have  a  portrait  of  Pelagie,  a 
friend  and  neighbor  of  Constance. 

The  third  person  was  a  young  man  of  twenty- 
five  to  twenty-six  years,  rather  ugly  and  deeply 
pitted  by  the  smallpox,  whose  nose  was  too  big, 
his  forehead  too  low,  his  eyes  too  light,  but  who 
redeemed  these  disadvantages  by  an  expression  of 


4        EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

timidity  which  is  not  common  nowadays  in  young 
men. 

This  young  man,  whose  attire  was  decent  but 
very  simple,  without  a  suspicion  of  fashion,  was 
seated  beside  the  fire  reading  to  the  young  ladies, 
who  were  employed  with  their  needlework, — 

"  *  In  the  midst  of  the  forest  was  an  old  chapel, 
fast  falling  into  ruin,  which  the  crows,  the  owls 
and  the  bats  had  long  made  their  favorite  dwelling, 
the  valiant  Adhemar  — '  " 

"  Good  gracious  !  M.  Ginguet,  how  badly  you 
read!"  said  Mademoiselle  Pelagic;  "you  go  on 
and  on  —  you  mix  it  all  up  till  no  one  can  under- 
stand anything." 

"  However,  I  pause  at  the  periods  and  at  the 
commas." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  was  the  owls  or  the 
valiant  Adhemar  who  had  taken  up  their  dwell- 
ing in  the  old  chapel  — " 

"  I'll  begin  again,  mademoiselle,  *  Which  the 
crows,  the  owls  and  the  bats  had  long  made  their 
favorite  dwelling  — *  a  period.  *  The  valiant  Ad- 
hemar did  not  fear  to  penetrate  into  the  midst  of 
these  ruins  at  the  hour  of  midnight  — '  " 

"You  would  not  have  had  the  courage  to  do 
so,  M.  Ginguet !  " 

"  Why  do  you  think  that,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Because  I  believe  you  are  rather  timid." 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  am  not  a  blusterer,  a  crazy 
fellow,  it  is  true ;  but  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  if 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK  5 

it  were  a  question  of  defending  you,  of  protecting 
you  from  danger,  nothing  would  deter  me." 

"  Meanwhile,  you  have  to  have  some  one  hold 
a  light  for  you  to  come  up  the  staircase  when  you 
have  forgotten  your  cane." 

"  That  is  because  the  staircase  up  to  the  first 
floor  is  so  highly  waxed  and  polished  that  I  am 
always  afraid  of  falling." 

"  Oh,  that  is  correct ;  when  one  can  see  it  clearly 
it  becomes  less  slippery.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  But  please 
go  on." 

"  *  Into  the  midst  of  these  ruins  at  the  hour  of 
midnight.  The  moon  was  then  shining  in  all  her 
brilliance,  and  her  reflections  created  a  thousand 
fantastic  objects  which  — '  " 

"  What  have  I  done  with  my  needle  ?  I  had  it 
just  now.    It's  a  real  English  one  and  I  prize  it." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  look  on  the  ground, 
mademoiselle  ? " 

"  Oh,  wait !  here  it  is.  How  stupid  I  am,  it 
was  right  beside  my  work." 

" '  A  thousand  fantastic  objects  which  would 
have  frightened  any  other  than  a  noble  and  stain- 
less knight  — ' " 

"  Come,  it's  my  thimble  now.  Good  gracious  ! 
how  unfortunate  I  am  this  evening.  I  must  find 
it  —  my  little  ivory  thimble  —  or  somebody  will 
step  on  it  and  crush  it,  and  it  was  a  present  from 
my  uncle,  who  doesn't  often  give  me  one.  Oh, 
here  it  is,  it  was  on  my  knees.     Well,  why  don't 


6         EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

you  go  on,  M.  Ginguet?  You  stop  every  minute. 
How  do  you  think  I  can  understand  what  you 
read." 

"  *  Than  a  noble  and  stainless  knight  whose 
valor  had  never  been  denied.  But  young  Adhe- 
mar,  drawing  his  sword  out  of  its  scabbard  — '  " 

"  How  stupid  !  if  he  draws  his  sword  at  all,  it 
is  quite  clear  that  he  must  draw  it  out  of  the  scab- 
bard.    It  was  you  who  added  that,  M.  Ginguet." 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  I  added  nothing ;  if  you 
will  take  the  trouble  to  look  at  it,  you  will  see 
that  I  did  not." 

"It's  needless;  go  on." 

"  *  Out  of  its  scabbard,  unhesitatingly  entered  the 
gloomy  vaulted  precincts  of  the  old  chapel,  crush- 
ing beneath  his  feet  the  flagstones  rotted  by  time.*  " 

"Tell  me  now,  Constance,  does  this  book  amuse 
you  ?  I  think  it  has  neither  end  nor  interest;  I 
like  the  *  Petit-Poucet '  or  the  *  Peau  d' Ane  '  much 
better,  and  then  M.  Ginguet  reads  in  such  a  monot- 
onous way.  It  sounds  to  me  like  an  old  blindman's 
clarinet." 

Up  to  this  time  Constance  had  remained  quiet, 
leaving  her  young  friend  Pelagic  to  tease  M.  Gin- 
guet ;  she  had  paid  little  attention  to  the  reading, 
but  instead  had  often  turned  her  eyes  towards  a 
small  clock  on  the  mantelpiece,  which  had  just 
sounded  the  half  hour  after  nine. 

Constance  felt  disappointed  as  the  evening  wore 
on  without  the  arrival  of  her  cousin  Edmond,  for 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK  7 

the  young  girl  dearly  loved  him.  Constance  had 
been,  so  to  speak,  brought  up  with  Edmond  ;  their 
mothers  were  sisters  and  both  became  widowed 
when  very  young  ;  they  had  vowed  never  to  marry 
again,  but  to  devote  themselves  to  the  education 
of  their  respective  children. 

The  two  sisters  had  lived  together,  and  their 
sweetest  hope  had  been  that  Edmond  and  Con- 
stance, who  was  only  four  years  younger  than  her 
cousin,  should  be  one  day  united  in  marriage. 

Everything  seemed  to  indicate  that  this  union 
would  be  for  the  happiness  of  the  two  children ; 
they  loved  each  other  as  brother  and  sister,  and  as 
they  grew  up  it  was  to  be  presumed  that  a  ten- 
derer love  would  usurp  the  place  of  the  fraternal 
friendship.  As  to  the  monetary  considerations, 
they  were  all  that  was  desirable ;  each  sister  had 
the  same  fortune  in  the  funds,  which  she  intended 
to  leave  entirely  to  her  child.  These  ladies  had 
seen  the  "  Deux  Gendres  "  and  "  Pere  Goreot," 
but  that  did  not  change  their  resolutions  ;  good 
mothers  never  believe  in  the  ingratitude  of  their 
children,  and  they  were  right.  It  is  so  sweet  to 
count  on  the  love  and  gratitude  of  those  we  cher- 
ish. Besides,  ungrateful  children  are  not  natural, 
they  are  the  exception. 

But  fate,  which  is  always  right,  or  so  say  our 
friends  the  optimists,  did  not  permit  these  two 
good  mothers  to  live  to  realize  the  plan  which  they 
had  formed.     Madame  Guerval  died  just  as  her 


8         EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

son  had  attained  his  eighteenth  year,  and  Edmond 
remained  with  his  aunt  and  cousin,  whose  loving 
care  softened  the  bitterness  of  his  grief ;  but  in  the 
following  year  Constance  also  lost  her  mother,  and 
the  poor  children  were  thus  both  orphaned. 

Edmond  was  nineteen,  Constance  was  sixteen ; 
they  were  still  too  young  to  marry.  Besides,  one 
must  wear  mourning  for  one's  mother ;  but  as  it 
would  not  have  been  proper  that  the  young  peo- 
ple should  continue  to  live  together,  Constance, 
immediately  after  her  mother's  death,  went  to  live 
with  M.  Pause,  Pelagie's  uncle. 

M.  Pause  was  a  musician  of  the  third  order ;  he 
had  played  the  'cello  since  he  was  ten  years  old, 
and  he  was  now  fifty-five,  but  he  had  never  been 
able  to  read  anything  at  sight  except  in  the  key  of 
F  ;  he  loved  music  passionately,  and  played  his  in- 
strument as  if  he  loved  that ;  however,  he  played 
very  indifferently,  never  in  time,  but  regularly  fol- 
lowing behind  the  others.  M.  Pause  was  an  ex- 
cellent man,  a  model  of  promptitude ;  he  always 
arrived  before  his  time  at  the  theatre  where  he  was 
employed,  was  never  fined,  and  showed  no  ill- 
humor  when  they  made  him  begin  the  same  piece 
five  or  six  times  over  at  the  rehearsals.  All  these 
qualities  had  won  him  the  esteem  of  his  chiefs  and 
had  caused  them  to  excuse  his  inferior  talent. 

M.  Pause  was  not  rich.  Though  in  this  century 
music  has  made  great  progress  and  threatens  to 
invade  the  public  squares  as  well  as  the  gardens. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK  9 

one  does  not  earn  high  wages  by  playing  the  'cello 
in  a  theatre  where  they  give  melodramas.  Some 
lessons  which  M.  Pause  gave  in  the  morning  aug- 
mented his  income  but  slightly,  for  his  pupils  had 
the  habit  of  leaving  him  as  soon  as  they  could 
manage  to  read  at  sight  themselves.  Despite  that, 
the  poor  musician,  who  was  as  methodical  in  his 
household  as  he  was  prompt  at  the  theatre,  lived  in 
happiness  and  contentment  with  his  niece  Pelagie, 
the  lively  little  girl  you  have  seen  working  beside 
her  friend  and  teasing  M.  Ginguet,  a  young  clerk 
at  the  Treasury  and  an  honest  fellow,  whose  good- 
humor  bordered  a  little  on  simplicity  and  who  was 
desperately  in  love  with  the  'cello  player's  niece. 

M.  Pause  had  sometimes  gone  with  his  niece  to 
see  the  two  widows  and  their  children.  Constance 
and  Pelagie  were  on  very  intimate  terms ;  In  youth 
one  so  quickly  grows  attached  —  and  there  are 
some  people  who  keep  this  habit  all  their  lives. 

Constance  had  often  heard  her  mother  praise 
M.  Pause's  upright  character  and  excellent  heart, 
and  when  she  had  lost  her  she  thought  she  could 
not  do  better  than  to  go  and  ask  for  shelter  and 
protection  from  this  old  friend  of  her  family. 
Pelagie's  uncle  joyfully  welcomed  the  young  or- 
phan ;  he  would  have  received  her  even  had  Con- 
stance come  to  be  a  charge  on  him  ;  but  the  young 
girl,  who  had  a  modest  competence,  would  not 
enter  the  poor  musician's  house  until  he  had  con- 
sented to  receive  payment,  which  she  regulated 


lo       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

herself;  in  this  way  Constance's  presence  in  Pause's 
house  made  things  more  easy,  and  at  the  same  time 
she  brought  many  pleasures  to  it. 

At  the  time  we  begin  this  history,  Constance 
had  already  been  for  three  years  and  a  half  an  in- 
mate of  M.  Pause's  dwelHng;  young  Edmond  had 
attained  his  twenty-fourth  year,  and  nothing  stood 
in  the  way  of  his  union  with  his  pretty  cousin,  who 
was  over  nineteen  and  knew  all  that  was  necessary 
to  make  an  excellent  housewife. 

Why,  then,  had  this  union  not  taken  place,  since 
no  obstacle  stood  in  the  way  of  these  young  peo- 
ple's happiness  ?  It  was  probably  because  not  the 
slightest  impediment  came  in  the  way  of  his  love 
that  Edmond  was  in  no  hurry  to  be  happy.  It 
seems  that  men  attach  no  value  to  that  which  they 
obtain  without  trouble ;  let  an  end  be  easily  at- 
tained, and  you  will  see  how  few  competitors  seek 
to  arrive  there.  Thus  Edmond,  quite  sure  of  his 
cousin's  love,  quite  sure  that  as  soon  as  he  wished 
she  would  give  him  her  hand,  always  deferred  this 
union,  which  had  been  so  greatly  desired  by  both 
their  mothers. 

It  is  necessary  to  tell  you  that  on  coming  into 
possession  of  the  modest  fortune  which  his  mother 
had  left  him  while  still  quite  young,  Edmond,  not 
knowing  yet  what  career  he  should  enter  and  be- 
lieving himself  capable  of  success  in  all  that  he 
undertook,  had  already  tried  several  professions,  but 
his  changeable  disposition  and  his  versatile  mind 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        ii 

had  caused  him  soon  to  abandon  them.  How- 
ever, before  marrying  his  cousin  he  insisted  that 
he  must  have  a  position,  a  fortune  and  even  fame 
to  offer  her,  and  it  was  because  he  had  not  yet 
acquired  all  these  that  he  put  off  the  time  of  his 
marriage. 

You  know  now  the  persons  with  whom  you  will 
have  most  to  do.  Let  us  now  return  to  the  round 
table,  to  listen  to  the  end  of  their  conversation. 


CHAPTER  II 

M.  Pause 

Constance  had  not]^nswered  her  cousin's  ques- 
tion, so  preoccupied  had  she  been  in  thinking  of 
Edmond. 

"  Constance,  at  least,  is  very  fortunate,  for  while 
M.  Ginguet  was  reading  she  had  something  else 
to  think  of,  so  she  did  not  listen.  If  he  had  read 
the  *  Moniteur  *  she  would  have  thought  he  was 
still  reading  the  'Mysteries  de  la  Tour  du  Sud.* 
Ah,  that  is  what  it  is  to  have  a  cousin  who  is 
going  to  marry  us." 

"  A  cousin ! "  said  Constance,  blushing  and  awak- 
ening from  her  revery.  "  Yes,  that  is  true  —  I 
think  Edmond  is  very  late  this  evening." 

"  Oh,  I  was  sure  you  were  thinking  of  him. 
You  love  him  so  much." 

"  I  cannot  deny  that ;  my  mother  betrothed  me 
to  Edmond,  and  often  told  me  how  much  I  ought 
to  love  him,  because  he  would  one  day  be  my 
protector,  my  husband." 

"And  he  is  a  very  fortunate  young  man!"  mut- 
tered Ginguet,  taking  the  tongs  to  poke  the  fire. 

"  What  do  you  say,  M.  Ginguet .? "  demanded 
Pelagic  with  a  mischievous  look. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        13 

"  Mc !  nothing  at  all,  mademoiselle,  I  am  at- 
tending to  the  fire/* 

"  But  when  is  the  wedding  to  come  off,  Con- 
stance ?  I  shall  be  delighted  to  dance  at  it.  I  am 
to  be  maid  of  honor,  you  know,  and  my  dress  is 
already  settled  on.     It  will  be  charming  too." 

"  Then  I  hope  they  will  have  me  for  the  best 
man,"  said  Ginguet  timidly,  not  daring  to  look  at 
Mademoiselle  Pelagie. 

"  That's  all  right,  M.  Ginguet,  we  shall  see,  we 
will  think  of  it,  but  don't  weary  us  in  advance  with 
your  demands.  In  the  first  place,  as  maid  of  honor, 
I  shall  arrange  all  that.  Constance  has  promised. 
Your  marriage  is  fixed  for  next  month,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  Why  —  that  will  depend  on  Edmond." 

"  It's  very  singular  that  your  future  husband 
should  not  evince  more  eagerness ;  were  I  in  your 
place,  I  should  say  to  him,  *  Cousin,  if  you  don't 
wish  to  marry  me,  tell  me  so  frankly.' " 

"  Why,  Pelagie !  what  an  idea !  can  I  suppose 
that  my  cousin  no  longer  loves  me  ?  What  does 
it  matter  when  our  marriage  takes  place  ?  so  long 
as  I  know  that  some  day  I  shall  be  his  wife,  I  am 
happy — " 

As  she  said  these  words  the  young  girl  stifled  a 
sigh,  but  after  a  moment  she  resumed, — 

"Edmond  wishes  to  have  an  honorable  position 
in  the  world,  but  he  does  not  yet  quite  know  what 
profession  he  ought  to  adopt.  The  desire  to  ac- 
quire renown,  to  hear  his  name  coupled  with  praise. 


14       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

troubles  him  and  preoccupies  him  incessantly.  I 
cannot  wish  that  he  should  do  otherwise  than  seek 
to  acquire  an  honorable  rank  in  society,  although 
I  do  not  think  that  glory  adds  to  happiness.  In 
the  first  place,  you  know  he  has  a  great  taste  for 
music  —  he  is  studying  composition,  he  wants  to 
be  a  Boieldieu,  a  Rossini." 

"  Yes,  and  all  that  he  has  accomplished  in  that 
direction  is  a  waltz  which  he  has  published  and  in 
which  my  uncle  says  there  are  some  pretty  bars." 

"As  for  me,  I  never  have  been  able  to  play  his 
waltz  on  my  flute,"  said  M.  Ginguet;  "it's  sur- 
prising how  difficult  it  is." 

"  Because  you  never  play  in  time!  Ah,  M.  Gin- 
guet 1  you  could  never  compose  a  waltz." 

"  Mademoiselle,  a  fortnight  ago  I  composed  a 
little  galop  that  I  should  like  to  dedicate  to  you." 

"A  little  galop!  That  must  be  pretty!  In 
fact  your  cousin  has  abandoned  music  for  poetry. 
He  has  composed  a  comedy  in  three  acts,  and  in 
verse.     It  is  very  fine." 

"  By  Jove  !  how  he  was  hissed.  What  a  racket 
there  was  the  day  it  was  put  on  the  stage ! "  mut- 
tered Ginguet,  still  fiddling  with  the  fire  and  failing 
to  notice  Pelagie's  efforts  to  silence  him. 

"  My  cousin  was  not  fortunate  at  the  theatre," 
said  Constance,  sighing,  "and  I  don't  think  he  has 
any  desire  to  try  it  again." 

"  Why,  what  can  you  expect  ?  no  one  is  success- 
ful at  the  very  outset.     But  he  must  have  some 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK         15 

Intellect  to  be  able  to  write  a  comedy  at  all  —  even 
if  it  did  fail.  M.  Ginguet,  I  suppose  you  have 
never  made  a  verse  in  your  life  ? " 

"  Pardon  me,  mademoiselle,  I  composed  a  song 
for  my  aunt's  birthday  to  the  tune  of  *  Grenadier, 
que  tu  m'affliges  ! '     There  are  eight  couplets." 

"  That  must  be  funny  !  You  must  sing  it  to 
me  some  evening  when  I  want  to  go  to  sleep." 

"Just  now  Edmond  is  enraptured  with  paint- 
ing," said  Constance ;  "  he  is  finishing  a  picture 
which  he  is  going  to  send  to  the  exposition." 

"  Is  it  an  historical  picture,  mademoiselle?  "  in- 
quired M.  Ginguet,  at  length  relinquishing  the 
tongs. 

"  Oh,  no,  monsieur,  it  is  a  genre  picture." 

"  Good  gracious,  M.  Ginguet,  you  ask  questions 
that  are  devoid  of  all  common  sense.  Do  you 
suppose  that  M.  Edmond,  who  has  only  been 
studying  painting  for  a  short  time,  can  paint  an  his- 
torical picture  at  the  very  outset  ?  " 

"  By  Jove,  mademoiselle,  I  have  a  little  nephew 
who  is  only  nine  years  old,  and  he's  drawing 
Brutus  and  Epaminondas  every  day  of  his  life  ;  it 
isn't  more  difficult  to  copy  M.  Dabuife's  *  Sou- 
venirs '  and  *  Regrets.'  " 

"  Do  hold  your  tongue,  M.  Ginguet ;  you  make 
me  sick  talking  like  that!  One  can  tell  very  well 
that  you  never  learned  drawing." 

"You  are  mistaken,  mademoiselle,  I  have  been 
taking  lessons  for  six  months,  and  I  can  already 


i6       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

draw  windmills  very  passably  indeed.  Would  you 
like  me  to  go  on  reading  ? " 

"  No,  don't  you  see  we  are  talking;  cut  out  the 
scallops  of  this  embroidery  for  me,  but  be  very  care- 
ful not  to  cut  into  a  notch." 

"  Be  assured  that  I  will  use  the  utmost  care, 
mademoiselle." 

M.  Ginguet  took  the  embroidery  and  the  scis- 
sors and  began  to  cut  without  lifting  his  eyes  for 
fear  of  committing  some  awkwardness. 

"If  my  cousin's  picture  is  not  received  at  the 
Salon,"  said  Constance,  "  I  am  sure  that  he  will 
abandon  painting  as  he  has  abandoned  music  and 
play-writing." 

"What  can  you  expect? — he  is  seeking  his  vo- 
cation; he  would  like  to  do  everything,  and  that  is 
impossible.  He  has  a  great  deal  of  talent  but 
hardly  any  perseverance,  that  cousin  of  yours." 

"A  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss,"  said  M.  Gin- 
guet in  an  undertone,  as  he  industriously  continued 
to  snip. 

"That's  all  very  well,  M.  Ginguet,  we  shall  see 
how  much  moss  you  gather ;  you've  been  in  an 
office  for  seven  years,  I  believe,  and  you  are  still 
a  supernumerary." 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  is  because  they  don't  do  right 
by  me  —  everything  goes  by  favor  ;  but  I  shall  get 
there,  never  fear." 

"  Yes,  if  you  keep  on,  in  fifteen  years  or  so 
they'll  make  you  an  office  boy." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        17 

"  Oh,  mademoiselle  —  " 

"  Take  care,  monsieur,  or  you'll  cut  one  of  my 
scallops." 

"  You  meant  to  say  I  should  be  chief  of  the 
office,  didn't  you  ?  " 

Pelagie  began  to  laugh  and  at  that  moment 
somebody  rang  the  door  bell.  Constance's  face 
expanded,  for  she  did  not  doubt  that  it  was  her 
cousin ;  but  the  young  girl's  joy  was  of  short 
duration. 

It  was  a  little  fat,  thickset,  inflated  man,  having 
in  the  middle  of  his  face  a  little  bump  with  two 
openings  which  was  supposed  to  be  a  nose,  and 
beneath  that  a  great  expanse  of  mouth,  stopped 
happily  by  his  ears ;  which  with  great,  goggle  eyes 
and  bristly  hair,  which  grew  almost  up  to  his  eye- 
brows, united  in  making  his  face  one  of  the  fun- 
niest that  any  one  ever  saw  even  in  the  "Dantan  " 
gallery. 

This  little  man  was  honest  M.  Pause,  Pelagie's 
uncle,  a  most  intrepid  performer  on  the  'cello  (which 
does  not  mean  that  he  was  the  best),  who  had  come 
from  his  theatre  much  earlier  than  was  his  custom. 

M.  Ginguet  left  his  scallops  for  a  moment  to 
greet  M.  Pause  respectfully  and  to  yield  to  him  his 
place  beside  the  fire. 

"What,  is  it  you,  M.  Pause?"  said  Constance; 
"  why,  it  is  barely  ten  o'clock,  and  ordinarily  your 
theatre  is  not  closed  so  soon." 

"  That  is  true,  my  dear,  but  this  evening  we  had 

Vol.  XX 


i8       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

a  new  piece  in  three  acts  and  the  public  wanted  to 
hear  only  two,  which  necessarily  shortened  the 
evening." 

"  So  the  piece  was  a  failure,  uncle  ? " 

"Yes,  my  dearest." 

"  Was  it  so  very  bad?"  inquired  Ginguet,  with- 
out taking  his  eyes  from  his  scallops. 

"  Bad  —  why,  that  depends  ;  there  were  some 
pretty  things  —  above  all  in  the  parts  for  the 
orchestra ;  as  for  that,  they  are  to  give  it  again  to- 
morrow, and  the  director  has  said  that  it  will  go." 

"  Go  where  ?  " 

"  Why,  make  a  hit ;  be  carried  to  success  by  a 
storm  of  applause.  That's  what  would  have  hap- 
pened today  if  they  would  have  given  the  whole 
body  of  the  house  to  the  author,  as  is  the  habitual 
practice  with  the  plays  of  our  great  modern  men, 
who  do  not  wish  that  a  single  ticket  should  be  paid 
for  on  the  occasion  of  a  first  presentation  of  one 
of  their  plays ;  because  at  a  first  presentation 
everybody  should  be  acquainted,  which  would 
ensure  general  enthusiasm.  But  yesterday  the 
manager  had  the  weakness  to  want  to  take  in  some 
receipts,  and  what  is  the  result  —  the  piece  failed. 
That's  a.  great  gain,  as  the  author  had  proved  to 
him  as  plainly  as  two  and  two  make  four,  saying 
to  him, — 

*"  I  consented  to  let  you  have  some  of  my  plays, 
that's  all  very  well;  but  it  is  not  sufficient  for  you 
to  pay  me  more  than  others — it  is  now  necessary 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        19 

for  you  to  sacrifice  your  receipts  for  six  represen- 
tations. That,  monsieur,  is  the  only  way  to  make 
money  now.* " 

"  Uncle,  if  they  are  going  to  give  passes  for  the 
whole  body  of  the  theatre  next  week,  can't  you  get 
some  for  Constance  and  I  ? " 

"Why,  that  will  be  difficult;  they  don't  give 
passes  lightly  to  the  first  persons  who  ask  them — 
they  want  people  on  whom  they  can  depend. 
Besides,  my  dear  Pelagie,  you  know  that  I  don't 
like  to  ask  the  slightest  favor.  We  have  our  or- 
chestra passes  once  a  fortnight — that's  quite  nice." 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  are  nice,  your  orchestra  passes 
are,"  said  Ginguet,  as  he  continued  to  cut  his  scal- 
lops ;  "you  have  to  pay  twenty  sous  for  each  person 
with  those,  and  they  put  you  on  the  side,  at  a  place 
where  it  is  impossible  to  see.  Then  they  tell  you 
that  by  paying  an  additional  twenty  you  may  go 
where  you  can  face  the  stage.  Good !  you  pay  the 
supplemental  price,  you  go  to  the  centre,  there  are 
no  vacant  seats,  you  shout,  you  see  empty  boxes, 
but  to  go  into  those  you  must  pay  fifteen  sous 
extra,  a  total  of  fifty-five  sous  for  a  place  that  is 
marked  two  francs  fifteen  sous  at  the  office  —  so 
with  your  free  pass  you  pay  exactly  five  sous  more 
than  the  price  and  you  have  to  remain  two  hours 
in  line.  I  haven't  said  anything  yet  of  the  foot- 
stool that  the  boxkeeper  thrusts  almost  by  force 
under  one's  feet,  of  the  *  Theatrical  News '  one 
must   buy,  or  of  the    price    of   checking   one's 


20       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

umbrella.  I  have  a  horror  of  free  passes,  I  would 
much  rather  rent  a  box  than  accept  an  employe's 
pass." 

"  Poor  M.  Ginguet !  what  a  passion  to  get  into." 

"  Well,  mademoiselle,  it  is  because  I  remember 

the  last  time  I  took  my  aunts  and  my  sisters  to  the 

play  —  I  had  employe's  passes  —  and  I  spent  all 

I  had  saved  for  months." 

"  Why  don't  you  pay  attention  to  my  scallops, 
that  would  be  much  better.  There,  you've  cut  one 
of  them  now ;  oh,  I  was  sure  you  would  do  it. 
Give  it  to  me,  monsieur ;  I  won't  let  you  touch  it 
again." 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  will  repair  the  damage." 
"  No,  you've  done  quite  enough  harm  now." 
Pelagic  took  her  embroidery  from  M.  Ginguet, 
who  appeared  overwhelmed  by  his  mishap,  and  at 
this  moment  the  bell  rang  again. 

"  This  must  surely  be  he,"  said  Constance. 
A  young  man  with  smooth  hair,  a  little  pointed 
beard  on  his  chin  and  whose  regular  features  were 
stamped  with  an  expression  of  self-sufficiency  which 
deprived  them  of  all  their  charm,  soon  entered  the 
apartment,  and  without  greeting  any  one  threw 
himself  ill-temperedly  into  an  armchair  as  he  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  It  is  pitiable  !  it  is  shocking  !  it  is  detestable  !  " 
"  What  do  you  mean,  cousin  ? "    asked  Con- 
stance, looking  anxiously  at  the  young  man  who 
had  just  come  in. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK         21 

"  Have  you  been  to  see  our  new  play  ?  "  inquired 
M.  Pause,  beating  with  his  fingers  on  the  mantel- 
piece as  though  he  were  conducting  an  orchestra. 
"It  seemed  to  me,  however,  as  though  there  were 
a  good  many  pretty  things  in  it." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  bothering  myself  much  about  your 
play  —  it  is  my  picture  which  is  in  question,  my 
picture,  which  is  delightful  in  tone  and  finish  and 
color — " 

"  Well,  what  of  it,  cousin  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  has  been  refused  at  the  exhibition  ; 
I  have  had  certain  information  to  that  effect  this 
evening." 

"  It  is  refused  !  " 

"  Yes,  cousin.  Neither  talent,  genius  nor  a  de- 
cided vocation  for  the  arts  avail  one  nowadays ; 
it  is  only  schemers  who  manage  to  achieve  success, 
who  get  the  emoluments,  the  honors.  But  when 
one  is  not  praised  and  exalted  by  a  clique  one  has 
no  chance  of  having  his  work  accepted  ;  so  many 
obstacles  are  thrown  in  one's  way,  so  many  things 
are  done  to  disgust  and  discourage  one  in  a  career 
where  one's  success  would  crush  his  rivals." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  M.  Pause,  trying 
to  beat  a  tune  in  trois-temps  with  his  head,  "the 
public  is  not  a  clique,  and  it  is  the  public  approval 
which  makes  real  success,  despite  the  newspaper 
articles,  which  are  sometimes  as  incorrect  in  their 
assertions  about  art  as  they  are  about  politics,  and, 
sooner  or  later,  talent  will  always  tell ;  but  one  must 


22       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

persevere  in  everything.  Look  you,  I  have  always 
passionately  loved  music, —  the  'cello  was  my  idol, 
I  would  make  'cellos  on  the  wall  with  charcoal, 
I  made  them  everywhere.  My  father  would  often 
say  to  me,  *You  had  much  better  measure  off 
calico  than  put  that  big  fiddle  between  your  legs ; 
you  were  born  to  be  behind  a  counter  and  not  to 
scrape  catgut.'  But  I  felt  that  I  was  born  for 
music,  so  I  kept  on  ;  my  resolution  brought  many 
disagreeable  things  upon  me,  but  at  length  I  dare 
to  say  I  have  attained  my  end,  succeeded ;  now  I 
am  recognized  ;  however,  I  can  say  with  truth  not 
a  single  newspaper  has  ever  said  a  word  about  me." 

Edmond  repressed  an  ironical  smile  which  flick- 
ered on  his  lips,  and  answered, — 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  wait  twenty-five  to  thirty 
years  to  acquire  a  reputation  ;  we  live  in  a  century 
where  things  move  quickly,  where  people  wish  to 
get  rich,  be  prosperous  and  admired  immediately. 
I  want  to  do  as  do  others.  The  means  are  not 
lacking  to  me ;  in  music  I  at  once  understood  the 
rules  of  composition." 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes ;  you  are  sure  to  be  successful, 
there  are  some  very  pretty  things  in  your  waltz  !  " 

"  Plays  !  why,  I  could  have  produced  one  a  week 
if  they  had  been  accepted  —  and  novels  too  —  do 
you  suppose  it  is  such  a  difficult  matter  to  write 
them  ?  they  print  such  bad  ones  nowadays." 

"  Certainly,  it  ought  not  to  be  difficult  to  do 
anything  badly." 


AND  HI 


U}  sav 


Edmond  rose  and  walked  about  the  room. 
Photogravure  from  Original  Prawing  by  William  Glackens. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        23 

"  As  to  my  picture,  you  have  seen  it,  M.  Pause  ; 
come,  answer  me,  is  it  not  good  ?  " 

"  There  are  many  good  points  about  it,"  an- 
swered M.  Pause,  still  playing  with  his  fingers. 

Edmond  rose  and  walked  about  the  room  for 
a  few  moments,  and  appeared  to  be  deeply  reflect- 
ing. The  two  young  girls  were  silently  working ; 
for  one  of  them  was  thinking  that  her  marriage 
would  again  be  put  off  and  the  other  that  she  would 
not  be  likely  to  have  to  wear  her  pretty  brides- 
maid's costume  very  soon.  M.  Pause  also  re- 
mained silent,  contenting  himself  with  beating  in 
andante  or  presto  ;  as  for  M.  Ginguet,  since  he  had 
had  the  misfortune  to  cut  one  of  Pelagie's  scallops 
he  had  not  known  how  to  sit  up  in  his  chair. 

Presently  Edmond's  brow  became  less  anxious, 
his  features  became  animated,  his  eyes  shone  and 
he  exclaimed, — 

"  Really,  I  am  very  foolish  to  bother  myself 
about  their  foolish  injustice.  After  all  one  must  be 
a  gull  to  work  and  wear  himself  all  out  to  acquire 
a  talent  that  our  citizens  do  not  know  how  to  ap- 
preciate —  if  they  do  not  deny  it,  at  any  rate  they 
will  be  jealous  of  it.  To  put  one's  self  to  expense 
for  envious,  ungrateful  people  can  anything  be  more 
foolish  than  that  ?  Money  —  that  is  the  only  thing 
to  have,  because,  having  money,  everybody  will 
render  one  all  possible  honor  and  endow  one  with 
all  kinds  of  merit.  Yes,  that  is  decided.  I  renounce 
the  fine  arts,  I  wish  to  recognize  no  other  god  than 


24       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

Plutus,  to  whom  I  shall  offer  all  my  incense.  My 
dear  cousin,  you  won't  marry  a  celebrity,  a  shining 
light,  but  you  will  marry  a  millionnaire,  and  you 
will  have  carriages,  hotels,  diamonds,  lackeys." 

"  What  makes  you  say  that,  cousin  ?  what  new 
idea  is  passing  through  your  head  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  firmly  settled  plan  now.  I  want 
to  become  very  rich.  Do  you  not  see  stupid  and 
incapable  people  making  their  fortunes  every  day  ? 
It  seems  to  me,  after  all,  that  if  a  man  with  good 
mental  quahfications  only  wishes  to  take  the  trou- 
ble, he  must  surely  be  able  to  do  the  same." 

"  That  is  not  good  reasoning,"  said  Constance, 
sighing,  "  besides,  cousin,  are  great  riches  neces- 
sary to  one's  happiness  ?  We  have  each  of  us  a 
modest  competency,  and  I  think  that  ought  to  suf- 
fice us.  I  have  no  desire  to  shine  in  the  world  or 
to  eclipse  any  one." 

"  And  I,  cousin,  wish  you  to  eclipse  all  the  other 
ladies  in  your  dress,  your  diamonds.  I  want  every 
one  to  envy  my  wife's  fate ;  I  want  them  to  say, 
*  Madame  Guerval  has  but  to  form  a  wish  to  have 
it  gratified.  Her  husband  refuses  her  nothing.* 
In  fact,  I  have  already  thought  of  a  way  of  being 
successful,  and  before  long  I  shall  lay  at  your  feet 
my  riches  and  my  hand." 

"  As  you  please,  cousin,  but  pray  remember  that 
your  riches  will  not  add  to  my  happiness." 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  know  how  he 
hopes  to  make  a  big  fortune  so  rapidly,"  said  the 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        25 

honest  'cellist  to  himself,  shaking  his  head  doubt- 
fully. 

"  M.  Ginguet,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  also  ought 
to  try  to  become  a  millionnaire,"said  Pelagie,  look- 
ing mischievously  at  the  young  clerk,  "  by  that 
means  you  would  avoid  a  long  career  as  a  super- 
numerary." 

"  Me,  mademoiselle  ?  I  am  fortunate  in  noth- 
ing," answered  Ginguet,  heaving  a  deep  sigh. 
"  What  would  you  hke  me  to  undertake  ? " 

"Well,  I  don't  advise  you  in  any  case  to  under- 
take cutting  out  —  for  you  certainly  are  not  a  bril- 
liant success  at  that." 

The  young  girl  laughed  heartily,  while  the 
young  man  lowered  his  eyes  and  felt  almost  ready 
to  cry. 

"  Children,"  said  M.  Pause  after  a  moment, 
"  while  we  are  waiting  for  M.  Edmond  to  become 
a  member  of  the  Assembly,  don't  you  think  we  had 
better  go  to  bed  ?  " 

"  Good-night,  cousin,"  said  Constance,  rising 
and  laying  aside  her  work;  "we  shall  see  you 
tomorrow,  I  hope  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  dear;  oh,  I  shall  continue  to  come, 
and  before  long  you  will  see  that  I  am  telling  you 
the  truth.  But  it's  getting  late  ;  aren't  you  com- 
ing, M.  Ginguet  ?  " 

"  Here  I  am  —  I'll  be  with  you,  I  am  looking 
for  my  hat." 

"  The  same  thing  occurs  every  evening,"  said 


i6       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

Pelagic ;  "  you  never  know  what  you  have  done 
with  your  hat." 

M.  Ginguet  knew  very  well  where  his  shabby 
felt  hat  was,  but  he  made  a  pretence  of  looking  all 
over  the  room  for  it,  hoping  to  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  approaching  Pelagie  to  whisper  a  request 
for  pardon  for  having  cut  her  scallop  ;  for  the  lorn 
bachelor  felt  that  he  should  not  sleep  that  night  if 
he  left  the  young  girl  displeased  with  him. 

But  Pelagie  made  a  point  of  not  going  near 
Ginguet,  and  he  was  obliged  to  go  ;  Edmond  was 
already  on  the  landing,  saying  good-by  to  the 
ladies  and  to  M.  Pause. 

Pelagie's  voice  was  heard  again,  exclaiming  in 
the  mocking  tone  which  was  natural  to  her, — 

"  M.  Ginguet,  if  you  don't  find  your  hat,  my 
uncle  has  decided  to  lend  you  one  of  his  cotton 
nightcaps  to  wear  home." 

"  I  have  it,  mademoiselle,  I  have  it,"  answered 
Ginguet,  coming  back  chopfallen,  and  with  his  hat 
in  his  hand.  "  I  am  sorry  to  have  made  you  wait 
at  the  door  —  I  am  very  unfortunate  this  even- 
ing —  I  am  so  —  I  — " 

"  That's  enough,  M.  Ginguet,  it  is  quite  time 
to  say  good-night;  you  can  tell  us  the  rest  another 
time." 

And  the  door  on  the  landing  was  closed  on  the 
young  man,  who  was  bowing  confusedly.  When 
he  saw  that  he  was  bowing  to  the  bare  walls,  he  de- 
cided to  go  down  the  staircase,  sadly  muttering, — 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        27 

"She's  very  willing  to  get  rid  of  me  !  I  am  very 
unlucky.  I  would  give  everything  I  possess  if  only 
Mademoiselle  Pelagie  would  love  me,  and  when  I 
am  near  her  I  do  nothing  but  what  is  awkward." 

The  young  men  had  reached  the  street ;  there 
they  were  to  part,  for  one  had  to  go  up  the  Fau- 
bourg and  the  other  went  down  towards  the  boule- 
vard. But  Ginguet  had  seated  himself  on  a  post 
which  stood  beside  the  house  he  had  just  left,  and 
seemed  disposed  to  remain  there.  Edmond  struck 
him  on  the  arm,  saying  to  him, — 

"  Good-evening,  my  dear  Ginguet." 

"  Good-evening,  M.  Edmond." 

"Do  you  expect  to  pass  the  night  on  that  post?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  —  I  am  so  un- 
happy !  Ah,  M.  Edmond,  you  don't  know  what 
it  is  to  love  without  hope,  you  who  are  certain  of 
possessing  your  cousin's  heart;  but  I  adore  an  un- 
grateful, cruel  girl  with  a  heart  as  hard  as  a  rock — 
I  might  weep  for  a  fortnight  and  Mademoiselle 
Pelagie  would  not  even  ask  me  why  my  eyes  were 
red." 

"  Then,  it  seems  to  me,  you  would  do  much 
better  not  to  weep." 

"  Can  I  help  doing  so  ?  When  Mademoiselle 
Pelagie  has  treated  me  harshly  during  the  evening, 
I  sob  all  night  so  loud  that  my  neighbor  in  the 
next  room  has  already  threatened  that  she  will  com- 
plain to  the  superintendent  of  police  because  she 
declares  I  prevent  her  from  sleeping." 


28       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"  Poor  Ginguet !  — good  evening,  I  am  going  to 
dream  of  my  plans  to  make  my  fortune." 

Edmond  took  himself  off,  leaving  Ginguet 
seated  on  the  post.  At  length  the  lorn  bachelor 
lifted  his  face  and  looked  up  at  the  windows  of 
M.  Pause's  apartment,  saying  to  himself, — 

"  If  she  would  only  come  to  the  window,  if  I 
could  only  see  her  pass  with  the  light." 

And  he  remained  thus  with  neck  extended  and 
nose  in  the  air,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  windows  of 
the  fourth  story,  walking  along  for  some  steps  and 
then  stopping ;  and  like  the  astronomer  who  was 
looking  at  the  moon  and  did  not  see  the  ditch  at  his 
feet,  the  unfortunate  lover,  in  gazing  up  at  his  be- 
loved's windows  did  not  see  some  stones  which  had 
been  left  near  the  gutter,  which  was  filled  with  water, 
for  it  had  rained  during  the  day. 

M.  Ginguet  stumbled  and  fell  right  into  the 
middle  of  the  water,  an  anything  but  enticing  bath. 

But  as  an  unexpected  physical  sensation  always 
drives  away  moral  sensations,  M.  Ginguet  picked 
himself  up,  dripping  wet,  and  immediately  turned 
towards  his  home  without  being  tempted  to  gaze 
longer  at  Mademoiselle  Pclagic's  windows. 


CHAPTER   III 

Freaks  of  Fortune 

Four  months  passed  by ;  Edmond  now  talked 
of  nothing  but  the  fluctuations  of  stocks,  five  per 
cents  and  current  prices,  for  his  way  of  making  a 
fortune  had  simply  been  that  of  gambling  at  the 
Bourse.  He  had  realized  his  little  property  and 
counted  on  quadrupling  his  capital  in  a  short  time. 

Good  M.  Pause  frowned  when  he  heard  how 
Constance's  cousin  expected  to  get  rich ;  but  she, 
always  kind,  always  gentle,  would  not  allow  her- 
self to  blame  her  cousin ;  besides,  Edmond  was 
beginning  well  ;  he  was  winning,  as  is  almost 
always  the  case  when  people  begin  to  gamble,  and 
he  was  therefore  delightfully  good-tempered  when 
he  came  to  see  his  cousin.  His  visits,  to  tell  the 
truth,  were  short ;  and  he  talked  only  of  sales  on 
time  and  reduced  consols. 

M.  Ginguet  still  went  on  foot  and  wore  his 
brown  frock  coat  and  black  waistcoat,  which  often 
subjected  him  to  Pelagie's  mischievous  sarcasm. 
However,  one  evening  he  appeared  with  a  radiant 
expression  and  wearing  a  white  waistcoat. 

"  Something  extraordinary  must  have  happened 
to  you,  M.  Ginguet,"  said  Pelagie  immediately. 


30       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"  you  have  changed  something  in  your  uniform  ; 
I  do  believe  you  have  gone  so  far  as  to  black  your 
boots  this  evening." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  ever  appear  before  you, 
mademoiselle,  with  untidy  clothes  or  muddy  boots. 
In  the  first  place,  I  am  careful  to  wipe  my  boots  on 
all  the  door  mats." 

"  Come,  M.  Ginguet,  answer  me — is  it  not  true 
that  something  has  happened  to  you  ?  You  are 
not  in  your  ordinary  condition,  I  even  think  you 
are  squinting  this  evening." 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  was  not  aware  of  it,  but  pleas- 
ure may  have  caused  me  to  squint ;  it  certainly  is  the 
case  that  I  am  very  pleased ;  dating  from  the  first 
of  this  month  I  am  no  longer  a  supernumerary, 
but  have  been  appointed  to  a  permanent  place." 

"  You  are  appointed  ?  why,  that  is  fine  !  And 
how  much  salary  are  you  to  have  ? " 

"  I  have  eight  hundred  francs,  mademoiselle." 

**  Eight  hundred  francs  —  per  month  ?  " 

"Why,  the  idea!  no,  by  the  year,  and  it  seems 
to  me  that's  very  well  for  a  beginning." 

"Why,  yes,"  said  M.  Pause,  who  had  not  yet 
left  for  the  theatre.  "  That  enables  a  young  man 
to  go,  not  to  the  opera  or  to  Vefours ;  but  in  Paris 
there  are  so  many  ways  of  living.  One  may  dine 
perfectly  well  for  twenty-two  sous." 

"  Why,  uncle !  you'll  be  saying  next  that  a 
person  may  set  up  housekeeping  on  an  income  of 
eight  hundred  francs." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        31 

"  My  darling,  I  have  known  a  clerk  who  with 
a  salary  of  twelve  hundred  francs  had  a  wife  and 
four  children,  and  they  all  lived  on  it  and  did  not 
go  into  debt  by  so  much  as  a  sou;  in  fact,  nobody 
would  have  lent  them  money  or  given  them  credit." 

Poor  Ginguet  breathed  not  a  word ;  he  had 
fondly  hoped  that  Pelagie,  on  learning  of  his  ap- 
pointment, would  have  treated  him  a  little  more 
kindly,  and  he  found  himself  again  mistaken  in 
his  hope.  But  on  going  out  M.  Pause  pressed 
his  hand,  saying, — 

"  I  offer  my  congratulations,  my  dear  fellow, 
my  very  sincere  congratulations  —  for  in  my  eyes 
an  assured  income  of  eight  hundred  francs  is  much 
better  than  the  pursuit  of  millions.  Good-by  ;  I 
am  going  to  play  for  a  melodrama  in  which  there 
are  many  pretty  things." 

Accustomed  to  hearing  Edmond  Guerval  speak 
only  of  such  sums  as  fifty  and  sixty  thousand 
francs,  the  young  girl  had  not  been  greatly  daz- 
zled by  M.  Ginguet's  new  position.  In  fact,  what 
is  a  man  with  eight  hundred  francs  a  year  in  com- 
parison with  some  one  who  by  a  lucky  stroke  at 
the  Bourse  may  win  fifty  times  as  much.  How- 
ever, Constance,  who  witnessed  the  sighs  of  the 
poor  clerk  when  he  was  near  Pelagie,  often  scolded 
the  latter  for  the  manner  in  which  she  treated 
M.  Ginguet ;  but  Pelagie  would  answer, — 

"  I  can  say  anything  I  like  to  him  ;  if  he  really 
loves  me  should  he  not  be  only  too  happy  that  I 


32       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

am  quite  willing  he  should  come  every  evening  ? 
He's  not  so  very  entertaining.  Sometimes  he 
comes  in,  sits  down  and  remains  for  two  hours 
without  opening  his  mouth.'* 

"  That's  when  you  take  no  notice  of  him  when 
he  says  good-evening  to  you.  The  young  man 
really  wants  to  marry  you ;  if  you  do  not  love 
him,  it  would  be  much  better  to  tell  him  so  than 
to  allow  him  to  vainly  hope." 

"  I  didn't  tell  him  to  hope ;  well,  we'll  see. 
Would  you  not  like  to  see  me  marry  a  clerk  on 
eight  hundred  francs,  so  that  on  Sunday  he  might 
feast  me  at  a  restaurant  for  twenty-two  sous  ?  Very 
much  obliged !  I  don't  think,  as  does  my  uncle, 
that  that  would  be  very  nice.  I  want  that  M.  Gin- 
guet  should  have  the  wit  to  make  a  fortune  like 
M.  Edmond,  but  he  is  too  heavy,  too  apathetic 
for  that.  You  ought  to  be  happy!  you  will  have 
a  hotel,  diamonds,  a  carriage ;  you'll  take  me  out 
in  your  carriage,  won't  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  got  one  yet." 

"  How  we  shall  amuse  ourselves  then.  We  will 
go  every  morning  to  the  Bois-de-Boulogne  to 
Saint-Cloud,  to  Meudon.  When  people  keep  their 
own  carriage  they  can  go  where  they  like.  Oh, 
we'll  travel ;  you  shall  take  me  to  see  the  sea." 

"  Are  you  mad,  my  dear  Pelagic  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  have  a  great  desire  to  see  the  ocean — 
but  with  a  husband  who  has  only  eight  hundred 
francs  it'll  be  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  go  and  see 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        32 

the  fountains  play  in  the  park  at  Versailles,  and  we 
shall  have  to  take  an  omnibus  to  get  there.  How 
amusing  that  will  be  !  " 

"Is  not  one  always  entertained  when  one  is  with 
the  person  one  loves  ?  " 

"  That  is  no  reason  for  swallowing  the  dust  over 
four  miles  of  road.  Oh,  Constance,  we  must  have 
boxes  at  the  play,  too  ;  at  several  plays." 

"At  the  opera  too,  I  suppose  i" 

"  Yes,  at  the  opera  and  at  Franconi's,  I  like  to  see 
the  horses.  Then  you  will  entertain,  you  will  often 
give  dinners,  evening  parties,  balls  —  you  will  have 
a  fine  orchestra  with  cornets,  for,  you  know,  my 
uncle  says  they  play  some  very  pretty  things  on 
that  instrument  now." 

"  But,  my  dear  Pelagie,  you  know  well  that  to 
realize  all  the  plans  you  have  formed  one  would 
need  a  very  large  fortune  indeed  !  " 

"It  seems  to  me  that  with  thirty  thousand 
francs  income  one  might  satisfy  all  one's  fancies." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  Edmond  is  going  to 
offer  me  thirty  thousand  francs  income  to  spend?" 

"  Certainly,  and  perhaps  a  good  deal  more.  It 
seems  as  though  your  cousin  will  get  rich  very 
quickly ;  the  last  time  he  came  he  seemed  so 
pleased,  so  highly  satisfied  with  his  speculations. 
He  rubbed  his  hands  together,  saying,  '  Audaces 
fortuna  !  *  O  mercy,  I  can't  remember  the  rest. 
But  they  were  Latin  words  which  certainly  must 
have  meant  *  I  am  very  rich.' " 


34      EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"  I  don't  understand  them  ;  but  I  know  that  my 
cousin  stayed  with  us  only  a  very  short  time,  and 
that  I  thought  him  a  good  deal  kinder  to  me  before 
he  dreamed  of  becoming  rich." 

The  evening  after  this  conversation  Edmond 
did  not  come  to  M.  Pause's.  The  next  evening 
M.  Ginguet  came  again  alone  and  the  young  clerk 
had  a  singular  expression  ;  he  was  gloomy,  seemed 
embarrassed,  and  remained  near  the  two  friends 
without  saying  a  word  to  them. 

"  You  have  something  the  matter  with  you  again 
this  evening,"  said  Pelagic  to  him  ;  "  and  although 
you  have  not  a  white  waistcoat,  your  face  is  quite 
changed ;  have  they  cut  down  your  salary  already  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  mademoiselle  —  it  has  nothing  to  do 
with  me." 

"  Nothing  to  do  with  you  ?  then  it  becomes 
more  interesting.  Come,  monsieur,  explain  your- 
self." 

"It  is  only  that —  well,  as  I  came  here  I  met 
M.  Edmond  Guerval." 

"  My  cousin  ?  " 

"Yes,  mademoiselle,  your  cousin,  and  he  looked 
as  if  he  was  at  his  wit's  end.  He  was  pale,  dejected." 

"  Good  heavens  !  is  he  ill  ?  " 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  he  is  not  ill  —  but  certainly 
there  was  something  the  matter  with  him.  In  the 
first  place  he  took  my  hand  and  squeezed  it  so  as 
to  bring  tears  to  my  eyes." 

"What  then,  M.  Ginguet?  what  did  he  do? 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        2S 

You  talk  to  us  about  your  hand  and  you  can  see 
very  well  that  Constance  is  on  thorns !  " 

"Finally,  M.  Edmond  said  to  me:  'Are  you 
going  to  M.  Pause's  this  evening  ? '    On  my  an- 
swering in  the  affirmative,  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  letter  and  gave  it  to  me,  adding,  *  Give  that  to  my 
cousin  from  me,  don't  fail  to  do  so.'      I  promised 
to  perform  his  commission,  and  then  he  disap- 
peared like  a  streak  of  lightning." 
"And  that  letter,  M.  Ginguet?" 
"  It  is  in  my  pocket,  mademoiselle." 
"  Well,  give  it  to  her  quickly,  why  don't  you  ?  " 
said  Pelagic;  "  that's  what  you  ought  to  have  begun 
by  doing." 

M.  Ginguet  presented  the  letter  to  Constance, 
and  the  latter  took  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  and 
read, — 

My  Dear  Cousin  :  —  I  wished  to  tempt  fortune  and  my  first 
attempts  were  fortunate.  Emboldened  by  this  beginning  —  per- 
haps I  was  so  too  quiclcly  —  however,  all  the  chances  seemed  in 
my  favor,  and  I  believed  I  should  soon  be  able  to  place  you 
in  a  posidon  worthy  of  you.  But  fate  betrayed  my  trustfulness. 
A  dreadful  fall  in  stocks  that  I  could  not  foresee  —  how  can  I  tell 
you  ?  I  am  ruined.  If  I  had  only  lost  what  belongs  to  me 
I  might  still  be  able  to  console  myself,  but  I  owe  nearly  double 
what  I  possess  ;  I  must  therefore  fail  to  keep  my  engagements  — 
and  so  lose  my  honor.  It  is  that  which  throws  me  into  despair  ! 
that  which  kills  me.  Yes,  which  kills  me  !  for  having  lost  honor 
I  cannot  live.  Good-by,  my  dear  cousin,  pity  me  and  do  not 
curse  me.     Good-by  forever, 

Edmond  Guerval. 


36      EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

The  letter  fell  from  Constance's  hands,  she 
seemed  stunned  by  this  unexpected  blow. 

"  Ruined  !  "  muttered  Ginguet. 

"  Ruined !  "  muttered  Pelagie. 

But  Constance  resumed  her  self-possession,  and 
her  first  act  was  to  exclaim, — 

"  Good  heavens !  he  means  to  die,  for  he  has 
bidden  me  good-by  forever.  To  die  because  he 
lacks  money !  Why,  does  not  what  I  have  belong 
to  him  ?  Does  Edmond  doubt  my  heart  ?  Oh,  I 
must  save  him,  prevent  the  execution  of  his  dread- 
ful plan.  Pelagie,  my  hat,  quick  !  my  shawl !  But 
what  does  it  matter,  I  can  go  as  I  am.  M.  Gin- 
guet, will  you  take  me  there,  give  me  your  arm. 
Come,  oh,  come  quickly,  it's  a  question  of  saving 
Edmond's  life." 

Constance  took  the  young  clerk's  arm  and  made 
him  go  down  the  stairs  four  at  a  time.  Ginguet 
jumped  and  stumbled  to  keep  up  with  her,  as  he 
said, — 

"Is  he  loved,  this  M.  Edmond ?  Is  he  loved ? 
Why,  if  I  could  only  be  as  dear  as  that  to  Made- 
moiselle Pelagie  I  should  be  capable  of  asphyxiat- 
ing myself  every  day." 

When  they  reached  the  street  Constance  said  to 
M.  Ginguet,  as  they  walked  along, — 

"  Lead  me,  monsieur,  and  oh,  please,  make 
haste,  it  would  be  so  cruel  to  get  there  too  late." 

"  I  will  certainly  conduct  you,  mademoiselle,  but 
where  do  you  want  me  to  take  you  ? " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        37 

"  To  Edmond's  —  you  know  where  he  lives  ? " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  If  only  we  find  him  at  home  !  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  doubtful." 

"In  fact,  we  shall  learn  perhaps  —  oh,  I  must 
see  him." 

Ginguet  said  to  himself,  "If  her  cousin  is  not 
at  home  I  don't  see  where  we  are  to  look  further 
for  him  !  "  But  he  did  not  make  this  reflection  to 
Constance,  whose  grief  and  anxiety  seemed  to  in- 
crease with  each  moment. 

They  reached  Edmond's;  Constance  left  her 
conductor  to  run  and  inquire  of  the  porter,  for  in 
great  trouble  one  forgets  the  convenances,  and  the 
young  girl  had  no  care  for  what  people  might 
think  of  her  in  seeing  her  go  to  a  young  man's 
lodging.  Edmond  was  not  at  home ;  he  had  been 
out  for  a  long  time,  and  had  said  nothing  to  the 
porter  to  indicate  in  which  direction  he  had  gone. 

Constance  felt  her  breast  oppressed  by  a  fright- 
ful weight ;  she  returned  in  despair  towards  her 
companion. 

"  He  is  not  at  home,  and  they  don't  know  where 
he  has  gone." 

"  I  was  afraid  it  would  be  so  ;  when  I  met  him, 
he  did  not  look  at  all  disposed  to  go  to  bed." 

"  No  matter,  we  must  find  him  ;  come,  M.  Gin- 
guet—  let  us  walk  on." 

**  As  far  as  you  like,  mademoiselle ;  but  where 
shall  we  go  ?  " 


38       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

«  To  the  Bourse." 

"  Mademoiselle,  no  one  goes  to  the  Bourse  in 
the  evening,  it  is  closed." 

"  Into  the  cafes,  to  the  play  —  how  do  I  know 
where  we  must  go  ?  " 

"  M.  Edmond  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  think- 
ing of  going  to  the  theatre." 

"  For  all  that,  monsieur,  my  cousin  must  be 
somewhere,  and  we  must  find  him." 

The  young  girl  led  her  companion  along;  they 
walked  haphazard.  When  a  young  man  of  Ed- 
mond's  height  or  figure  passed  them,  Constance 
would  exclaim,  "  There  he  is ! "  and  she  would 
make  M.  Ginguet  run  after  the  one  who  had 
passed  them  ;  but  M.  Ginguet  would  come  back 
saying,— 

"It  was  not  he,  and  when  I  got  close  up  it  did 
not  look  like  him  at  all." 

When  they  passed  in  front  of  a  cafe  M.  Ginguet 
must  go  In  to  it,  also,  in  order  that  he  might  ascer- 
tain that  the  one  they  were  looking  for  was  not 
there. 

For  three  hours  Constance  scoured  Paris  with 
the  young  clerk,  and  she  felt  her  hope  vanish  at 
each  step ;  she  did  not  weep,  but  she  breathed 
with  difficulty,  her  forehead  was  burning,  and  her 
gaze  fixed  and  mournful. 

M.  Ginguet  had  been  into  fifty  cafes  ;  he  had  run 
after  twenty  passers-by  and  by  some  of  them  he 
had  been  ill-received  ;  at  last  he  was  ready  to  drop 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        39 

with  fatigue,  but  he  dared  not  say  so,  for  the  young 
girl  made  no  complaint,  and  a  man  is  unwilling  to 
exhibit  less  courage  than  a  woman,  however  much 
he  may  wish  to  do  so. 

The  half  hour  after  eleven  sounded,  and  M.  Gin- 
guet  ventured  to  say, — 

"It  is  very  late ;  I  am  afraid  M.  Pause  and 
Mademoiselle  Pelagie  will  be  uneasy  about  you." 

"  Did  you  say  it  was  very  late  ?  " 

"  Half-past  eleven." 

"Then  he  must  be  in." 

"  M.  Pause  ?  Oh,  he  has  certainly  got  home 
by  now." 

"  My  cousin,  I  mean,  monsieur,  it  is  my  cousin 
whom  we  are  in  search  of,  come,  let  us  go  back 
to  his  place." 

Ginguet  dared  not  refuse,  although  he  thought 
the  errand  would  be  fruitless  enough ;  but  as  he 
walked  along  with  Constance  he  kept  repeating  to 
himself, — 

"How  this  man  is  loved  —  a  fortunate  man. 
And  he  wishes  to  kill  himself  and  rails  at  fate. 
For  all  that,  there  was  no  need  that  Love  should 
have  been  blind  !  " 

They  had  reached  Edmond's  house,  Constance 
stopped  trembling ;  at  this  moment  she  felt  her 
strength  leaving  her,  for  she  knew  well  that  if 
Edmond  had  not  come  in  she  must  lose  all  hope. 

She  made  up  her  mind,  however;  she  knocked 
and  went  in, — 


40       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"  M.  Edmond  Guerval  has  been  in  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,"  said  the  porter. 

"He  is  at  home!"  exclaimed  Constance, joy- 
fully. And  the  young  girl  immediately  went 
rapidly  up  the  stairs  without  looking  to  see  that 
her  companion  was  following  her. 

It  was  time  that  she  did  so,  for  Edmond,  hav- 
ing passed  the  evening  in  walking  aimlessly  about 
Paris,  reflecting  deeply  as  he  did  so  upon  his  cruel 
position,  had  become  convinced  that  there  was  no 
way  out  of  it  for  him  but  to  commit  suicide.  Cer- 
tainly that  is  a  more  expeditious  way  of  overcom- 
ing one's  difficulties  than  to  endeavor  to  regain  what 
one  has  lost  by  means  of  work,  patience  and  per- 
severance; but  in  our  time  patience,  perseverance, 
and  love  of  work  are  often  rarer  than  a  pistol  shot, 
and  yet  it  is  asserted  that  this  is  a  century  of  enlight- 
enment and  progress.  In  regard  to  such  conven- 
tional matters  as  eating  a  dinner  properly  this  may 
be  true;  but  as  respects  common  sense,  I  take 
exception  to  it. 

Edmond,  then,  had  come  home  firmly  resolved 
to  put  an  end  to  himself.  He  had  loaded  his  pis- 
tols, then  he  had  placed  them  on  a  table  near  him, 
and  given  himself  up  to  mournful  regrets  for  his 
short  career.  No  doubt  his  pretty  cousin  occu- 
pied a  large  share  of  his  thought;  at  least,  the  poor 
child  well  deserved  to. 

But  at  the  very  moment  that  Edmond  took  up 
the  pistol,  Constance  came  into  the  room,  seized 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        41 

the  hand  that  held  the  weapon,  and  threw  herself 
at  his  feet,  exclaiming, — 

"  Cousin,  do  you  want  to  kill  me  also  ?  " 

Edmond  paused  ;  he  looked  at  his  cousin,  who 
was  supplicating  him  with  her  beautiful  eyes  ;  emo- 
tion succeeded  to  despair  and  he  dropped  into  a 
chair,  muttering, — 

"  What,  do  you  wish  me  to  live  dishonored, 
Constance  ?  And  I  shall  be  if  I  do  not  meet  my 
engagements." 

"  But,  cousin,  have  you  forgotten  that  all  I  pos- 
sess is  yours.  Dispose  of  my  property  —  I  wish 
it,  I  exact  it,  in  the  name  of  both  our  mothers, 
who  loved  us  so  much  and  were  so  pleased  to  look 
upon  you  as  my  protector,  as  the  husband  whom 
Heaven  destined  for  me." 

"Constance,  what  are  you  thinking  of ?  Do 
you  mean  that  I  should  dispose  of  your  fortune  ? 
If  you  only  knew  ! — when  I  shall  have  paid  all  I 
owe,  on  account  of  that  unlucky  and  totally  un- 
expected fluctuation  in  stocks,  you  will  hardly  have 
anything  left." 

"  And  what  does  that  matter —  I  shall  be  happy 
then ;  do  you  imagine  I  should  be  so  in  grieving 
over  your  death  ?  "  cried  Constance.  "  You  will 
accept,  Edmond,  you  must,  I  wish  it  —  hand  me 
some  paper,  quick !  and  the  ink,  that  I  may  give 
you  a  letter  to  my  banker.  Oh,  I  am  so  pleased 
that  I  can  hardly  write." 

And  the  young  girl  seated  herself  at  a  desk  ;  she 


42       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

wrote  with  such  evident  delight  that  her  cousin 
standing  near  her  could  only  silently  admire  her; 
a  little  farther  off,  in  a  corner,  M.  Ginguet  was 
weeping  like  a  child,  and  murmuring, — 

"  What  an  act !  what  devotion  !  Here  is  a  man 
who  is  really  loved  1  Ah,  Mademoiselle  Pelagie, 
how  happy  I  should  be  if  I  could  only  inspire  you 
with  a  nineteenth  part  of  that  love." 

Constance  had  finished  writing,  Ginguet  had 
ceased  to  weep.  Edmond  had  consented  to  re- 
ceive the  help  offered  by  his  cousin.  They  were 
happy,  their  troubles  were  forgotten ;  they  were 
already  making  plans  for  their  future  happiness, 
and  Constance  did  not  seem  to  regret  the  brilliant 
fortune  that  her  cousin  had  wished  to  give  her. 

M.  Ginguet  remarked  that  it  was  very  late ;  they 
said  good-by,  promising  to  see  each  other  on  the 
following  day ;  then  Constance  was  led  back  to 
M.  Pause's  by  her  faithful  escort,  who  related  at 
once  all  that  Edmond's  cousin  had  done  for  him, 
while  the  latter,  with  lowered  eyes  and  confused 
expression,  listened  like  a  criminal  who  is  awaiting 
his  sentence. 

Pelagie  kissed  her  friend  as  she  exclaimed, — 

"  Well,  if  your  cousin  does  not  adore  you,  if  he 
doesn't  make  you  the  happiest  of  women,  he  will 
show  himself  an  ungrateful  fellow  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  of  placing  him  under  an  obli- 
gation when  I  did  it,"  said  Constance. 

As  to  honest  M.  Pause,  he  was  much  moved 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        43 

as  he  listened  to  the  story  of  the  young  girl's  beauti- 
ful action,  and  when  it  was  ended  he  came  and 
took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  affectionately  between 
his  own. 

"My  darling,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "there  are 
many  pretty  things  in  what  you  have  done  in  this 
matter ;  but  it  would  have  been  quite  as  well  if 
your  cousin  had  not  thought  of  becoming  a  mil- 
lionnaire.  However,  there  is  no  doubt  that  it 
will  be  a  good  lesson  for  him,  and  I  presume  that 
he  will  now  decide  on  adopting  some  profession." 

Edmond,  thanks  to  his  cousin's  fortune,  paid 
everything  that  he  owed ;  but  when  he  had  done 
so,  there  remained  to  Constance  only  eight  hun- 
dred francs  income,  just  as  much  as  Ginguet's 
salary. 

However,  the  young  girl  was  quite  untroubled 
by  the  change  in  her  fortune,  the  only  trouble  that 
she  experienced  was  in  being  obliged  to  diminish 
the  amount  she  had  been  paying  M.  Pause. 

She  was  treated  no  less  kindly  by  the  honest 
musician.  One  may  be  a  very  poor  musician  and 
still  have  an  excellent  heart,  which  is  decidedly  a 
compensation. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Bringuesingue  Family.   A  Grand  Dinner 

"  I  WONDER  why  it  is  that  M.  Edmond  still  defers 
his  marriage  with  his  cousin  ?  "  said  Pelagie  to  her- 
self some  time  after  these  events.  "  First  he  craved 
glory,  then  he  had  a  desire  for  fortune,  now — does 
he  not  know  how  to  content  himself  with  love?" 

Constance  said  not  a  word ;  but  it  is  probable 
that  the  same  subject  occupied  her  thoughts.  Since 
he  had  dissipated  all  his  property  and  that  of  his 
cousin,  Edmond  was  often  sad  and  dreamy,  often 
he  would  say  to  Constance, — 

"  What  sort  of  fate  can  I  offer  you  ?  I  have 
nothing  and  I  am  nothing.  What  happiness  can 
you  hope  for  in  the  future  with  one  who  seems  to 
be  pursued  by  a  fatality  ?  " 

And  Ginguet  said  to  himself, — 

"  He  doesn't  want  to  marry  her  because  he  has 
nothing ;  he  did  not  want  to  marry  her  when  he  had 
something,  when  is  he  going  to  marry  her,  then  ? 
Ah,  if  only  some  one  loved  me,  how  happy  I 
should  be  to  marry  her." 

M.  Pause  had  offered  Edmond  the  place  of  tenor 
violin  in  the  orchestra  at  his  theatre ;  for  although 
Constance's  cousin  was  not  a  distinguished  instru- 

44 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        45 

mentallst,  he  knew  enough  of  the  tenor  violin  to 
keep  a  place  in  one  of  the  boulevard  orchestras. 

Edmond  had  responded  to  this  proposition, 
"  What  would  that  lead  up  to  ? " 

"  Why,  you  would  earn  six  hundred  francs  !  " 

"  Why,  what  the  devil  do  you  think  I  could  do 
with  six  hundred  francs  ? " 

"Why,  with  it,  if  you  were  economical  —  you 
could  do  a  little." 

"  No,  M.  Pause,  I  cannot  play  the  second  vio- 
lin for  six  hundred  francs,  for  instead  of  giving  me 
some  taste  for  music  it  would  make  me  a  mediocre 
musician  and  I  should  so  stay  forever.  When  one 
knows  that  one  can  only  earn  so  little  one  plays 
accordingly." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  dear  fellow ;  the  man 
who  loves  his  art  never  makes  such  calculations, 
he  seeks  to  acquire  skill  and  often  works  harder 
when  he  earns  little  than  when  he  is  well  paid.  I 
could  cite  you,  in  support  of  what  I  tell  you,  sev- 
eral of  our  virtuosos,  our  great  artists,  who  began 
in  orchestras  or  in  the  secondary  theatres." 

Edmond  persisted  in  refusing  the  pkce  in  the 
orchestra.  Some  time  after  this,  honest  Pause,  who 
was  always  looking  for  some  occupation  for  him, 
told  the  young  man  that  he  had  spoken  to  one  of 
his  friends  about  him  —  a  manufacturer  of  paper 
hangings. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  decorate  his  paper  hang- 
ings ? "  asked  Edmond  with  a  bitter  smile. 


46       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"  No,  my  dear  fellow ;  but  I  was  telling  my 
friend  that  you  could  paint  very  pretty  genre  pic- 
tures; and  he  begged  me  to  ask  you  to  make  him 
six  chimney  boards  —  whatever  subjects  you  like, 
either  interiors  or  landscapes ;  he  will  pay  you 
fifteen  francs  a  piece." 

"  I  paint  chimney  boards,"  said  Edmond,  turn- 
ing scarlet  with  anger,  "  I  abase  my  talent  to  that 
point  and  for  fifteen  francs.  M.  Pause,  don't  think 
of  such  a  thing." 

"  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  six  times  fifteen  francs 
are  ninety,  and  besides,  what  harm  is  there  in  paint- 
ing chimney  boards  ?  I  know  of  some  of  our  great 
painters  who  are  today  members  of  the  Institute, 
who  formerly  painted  signs.  Do  you  think  they 
have  less  talent  today  because  of  that?  Everybody 
knows  that  artists  are  obliged  to  eat  like  other 
people  and  that  before  working  for  fame  they 
must  work  for  their  stomachs." 

"  You  may  say  what  you  like,  monsieur,  but  I 
shall  not  paint  chimney  boards,  I  would  much 
rather  make  toothpicks." 

"  Well,  then,  my  dear  fellow,  make  toothpicks, 
but  at  least  make  something." 

Such  conversations  as  these  were  not  at  all  en- 
tertaining to  Edmond,  and  to  divert  himself  after 
M.  Pause's  talk  Constance's  cousin  still  sometimes 
went  to  one  of  the  brilliant  gatherings  where  he 
had  been  very  much  sought  after  at  the  time  of 
his  speculations  on  the  Bourse,  and  where  he  was 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        47 

still  well  received,  because  he  had  not  been  the 
means  of  ruining  anyone,  was  always  dressed  with 
taste,  had  a  pretty  carriage,  good  manners,  a  thou- 
sand means  of  making  himself  agreeable,  and  in 
Paris  one  can  live  for  a  long  time  on  this  basis. 

At  one  of  these  gatherings  of  people  who  had 
the  appearance  of  being  wealthy  and  of  whom  some, 
like  Edmond,  had  not  a  sou,  but  where  every  one 
was  perfectly  clad,  Constance's  cousin  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  Bringuesingue  family,  which 
was  composed  of  father,  mother,  and  daughter. 

The  father  was  a  little  man  whose  height  would 
have  exempted  him  from  the  conscription ;  his 
head,  set  rather  deeply  between  his  shoulders,  his 
quick  eye,  his  sharp  nose,  M.  Bringuesingue  looked 
as  if  he  wanted  to  appear  jocular  and  one  might 
have  been  deceived  into  thinking  he  was  so. 

Following  the  custom  of  little  men,  he  had  mar- 
ried a  very  big  woman  who,  as  she  grew  older,  had 
become  very  stout.  She  could  easily  have  hidden 
her  husband  behind  her. 

Their  daughter  took  after  her  father  for  height 
and  her  mother  for  stoutness.  She  had  been  rickety 
and  was  rather  awkward  in  her  walk.  Madame 
Bringuesingue  was  taller  than  her  husband  and 
her  daughter  by  a  head. 

Here  you  have  their  physical  description,  let  us 
now  pass  to  the  mental. 

M.  Vendicien-Raoul  Bringuesingue  was  the  son 
of  a  mustard  manufacturer  who  had  made  a  great 


48       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

deal  of  money,  owing  to  the  judicious  mingling  of 
different  aromatic  herbs  in  the  mustards  he  put  up. 
Thanks  to  this  worthy  manufacturer,  the  daily 
beef  of  the  bourgeoisie,  who  still  hold  to  that  fun- 
damental dish,  had  seemed  less  insipid. 

M.  Bringuesingue,  the  son,  far  from  diminish- 
ing his  father's  reputation,  had  added  to  it  by  some 
fortunate  improvements  in  the  manner  of  pickling 
gherkins  and  had  rapidly  augmented  his  fortune.  But 
having  only  one  daughter,  and  being  possessed  of 
a  noble  ambition,  at  fifty  M.  Bringuesingue  aban- 
doned mustard,  gherkins,  and  everything  that 
smelled  of  vinegar  to  throw  himself  into  the  whirl 
of  fashion  and  enjoy  his  fortune. 

M.  Bringuesingue  having  retired  entirely  from 
business,  had  the  weakness  to  wish  to  make  people 
forget  that  he  had  enriched  himself  thereby.  He 
had  a  fine  apartment  in  the  Chaussee-d'Antin,  a 
man-servant  in  livery ;  he  gave  evening  parties, 
dinners  —  where  they  never  served  mustard  so 
much  did  he  fear  reflection — in  fact,  he  endeavored 
to  put  on  all  the  airs  of  a  great  nobleman. 

Madame  Bringuesingue  was  an  excellent  woman, 
whose  one  passion  in  life  had  been  for  dancing, 
and  this  she  still  preserved  although  she  was  over 
forty-five.  For  the  rest  she  always  conformed  to 
her  husband's  opinions,  deeming  him  a  most  su- 
perior man,  and  she  waited  for  him  to  speak  before 
expressing  an  opinion. 

All  the  affection  of  the  worthy  couple  was  of 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        49 

course  lavished  on  their  daughter,  who  was  their 
only  child.  Mademoiselle  Clodora  had  rather  reg- 
ular features  and  her  parents  thought  no  one  so 
beautiful  as  she.  They  had  given  her  masters  in 
music,  drawing  and  Italian,  dancing  and  geometry, 
geography  and  history ;  the  result  of  all  this  was 
that  at  sixteen  Clodora  sang  falsely,  drew  an  eye 
in  such  a  manner  that  it  could  easily  be  mistaken 
for  an  ear;  her  English  vocabulary  consisted  of 
the  word  "yes"  and  her  Italian  one  of  the  word 
"signor,"  she  could  not  dance  in  time,  thought  that 
Basle  was  in  England,  and  Edinburgh  in  Switzer- 
land, and  quoted  Louis  XV  as  having  wished 
that  his  subjects  might  put  the  fowl  in  the  pot. 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Bringuesingue,  who  were 
incapable  of  perceiving  the  lapses  their  daughter 
made  in  conversation,  incessantly  repeated  that 
Clodora  had  received  an  excellent  education. 

However,  in  receiving  company,  in  entertaining 
his  guests  well,  not  being  familiar  with  the  usages 
of  polite  society,  M.  Bringuesingue  often  found 
himself  very  much  embarrassed,  and  neither  his 
wife  nor  his  daughter  could  tell  him  what  to  do. 
One  circumstance  which  he  was  quick  to  profit  by 
served  him  marvellously  well. 

His  male  domestic  having  been  found  several 
times  in  the  cellar  completely  overcome  by  drink, 
M.  Bringuesingue  had  determined  to  look  for  an- 
other, when  one  day  he  heard  of  the  death  of  a  rich 
nobleman  who  lived  in  his  neighborhood.     The 

Vol.  XX 


so       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

ex-mustard  dealer  immediately  hastened  to  his 
hotel  to  confer  with  the  count's  butler  and  general 
factotum.  - 

"  Were  you  in  the  count's  service  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  How  much  did  he  give  you  ?  " 

"  Six  hundred  francs,  clothes,  board,  lodging  and 
frequent  gratuities." 

"  I  offer  you  a  thousand  francs  and  the  same 
advantages  and,  what  is  more,  you  shall  have  an 
authoritative  position  in  my  house,  only  I  shall 
count  on  you  to  give  me  certain  information,  that 
is  to  say,  to  remind  me  as  to  what  is  customary — 
which  I  have  forgotten  ;  having  lived  a  long  time 
in  the  provinces,  I  am  a  little  rusty  for  fine  Parisian 
manners.  You  who  were  in  the  service  of  the 
count,  who  associated  with  all  the  best  people  in  the 
capital,  must  be  acquainted  with  all  those  things, 
must  put  me  in  the  running." 

Comtois,  which  was  the  valet's  name,  accepted 
M.  Bringuesingue's  proposition  with  pleasure;  he 
understood  immediately  the  advantages  he  would 
enjoy  at  his  new  master's.  In  fact,  Comtois  became 
indispensable  to  M.  Bringuesingue,  who  never 
failed  to  consult  his  new  servant  before  doing  any- 
thing. 

If  he  wanted  to  have  a  coat  built  the  retired 
mustard  dealer  would  send  for  Comtois  and  ques- 
tion him. 

"  How  did  the  count  have  his  coats  made  ?  " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK         51 

"  In  the  very  latest  fashion,  monsieur." 

"  And  of  what  color  ?  " 

"  According  to  his  fancy." 

"  Very  well." 

And  M.  Bringuesingue,  turning  towards  his 
tailor,  would  say  to  him, — 

"  Make  me  a  coat  in  the  very  latest  fashion  — 
the  color  according  to  my  fancy." 

If  it  was  a  question  of  changing  the  furniture  of 
a  drawing-room,  of  a  bedroom,  he  would  call 
Comtois  again. 

"  What  kind  of  furniture  did  the  count  put  in 
his  drawing-room  ? " 

"  The  same  as  you  see  everywhere,  monsieur, 
a  couch,  easy  and  other  chairs  and  a  piano." 

Then  M.  Bringuesingue  would  send  for  an  up- 
holsterer and  order  furniture  for  his  drawing-room 
like  that  of  the  count.  But  it  was  on  reception 
days  and  the  occasions  of  grand  dinners  that  Com- 
tois became  a  valuable  man ;  it  was  he  who  drew 
up  the  menu  of  the  repast,  who  ordered  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  should  be  served,  the  moment  of 
rising  from  table,  the  manner  of  taking  coffee;  he 
it  was,  also,  who  directed  how  the  drawing-room 
should  be  lighted,  where  they  should  put  the  card 
tables,  how  they  should  greet  and  receive  their 
company ;  in  fact,  it  was  he  who  ordered  every- 
thing, and  any  one  who  had  come  when  he  was 
making  his  arrangements  might  easily  have  taken 
the  master  for  the  servant. 


52       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

Despite  the  lessons  which  he  received  every  day 
from  Comtois,  M.  Bringuesingue  still  feared  that 
he  should  commit  some  awkwardness  before  com- 
pany and  had  settled  on  a  sign  between  himself 
and  his  servant.  When  his  master  did  anything 
unconventional  in  good  company  or  anything 
which  infringed  the  rules  of  etiquette  Comtois 
scratched  his  nose,  and  M.  Bringuesingue,  who 
nearly  always  had  his  eyes  on  his  valet,  was  then 
warned  that  he  was  leaving  the  good  road,  and 
tried  to  repair  his  foolishness. 

This  was  the  Bringuesingue  family,  who  enjoyed 
twenty-five  thousand  livres  income  at  the  time 
when  Edmond  Guerval  made  their  acquaintance. 

Fortune  destined  that  the  young  man  should 
play  the  piano  for  Mademoiselle  Clodora  to  dance 
with  her  mamma,  that  she  might  not  miss  her 
contra-dance,  and  by  some  mistake  he  called  the 
papa  M.  "de  "  Bringuesingue.  When  he  had  done 
this,  he  was  found  charming  by  the  whole  family. 
Besides,  Constance's  cousin  had  all  those  super- 
ficial qualities  which  suffice  "to  please  in  society  ; 
he  played  the  piano  well  enough  for  people  to 
dance  to ;  he  sang,  he  could  draw  caricatures  of 
everybody  in  the  company  with  facility,  in  fact,  he 
had  assurance,  he  talked  on  every  subject,  even 
though  he  did  not  understand  it  he  spoke  trench- 
antly, decidedly,  or  he  turned  it  into  ridicule. 
This  is  more  than  is  necessary  in  society  to  im- 
pose upon  fools  or  even,  sometimes,  on  men  of 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        S3 

talent.  Edmond,  being  invited  to  go  to  Bringue- 
singue's  did  so ;  and  when  he  had  left,  the  master 
of  the  house  said  to  his  servant, — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  young  man  ?  " 

"  I  think  well  of  him,  monsieur ;  he  has  good 
manners  and  is  distinguished-looking." 

"  Comtois  thinks  he's  distinguished-looking," 
said  M.  Bringuesingue  to  his  wife,  in  speaking  of 
Edmond.  "  I  want  to  invite  that  young  man  to 
dinner.  I  should  like  him  to  come  often  to  our 
house." 

"  We  must  give  a  little  ball  —  he  dances  very 
well." 

"He  called  me  De  Bringuesingue  ;  I  don't  know 
whether  he  thinks  I  look  like  a  nobleman." 

"  Probably  he  does,  my  dear." 

Mademoiselle  Clodora  said  nothing,  though  I 
do  not  affirm  that  she  thought  the  same  ;  however, 
she  seemed  very  pleased  that  Edmond  was  pleas- 
ing to  her  parents. 

Some  days  later  M.  Bringuesingue  gave  a  grand 
dinner  and  young  Guerval  was  invited.  There 
were  some  men  from  financial  circles  and  a  large 
sprinkling  of  ad  venturers,  parasites  with  good  man- 
ners who  for  a  dinner  are  always  ready  to  fling 
incense  before  any  one ;  then  there  were  some 
artists  and  some  military  men,  but  no  shopkeep- 
ers ;  the  Bringuesingue  family  no  longer  associated 
with  people  of  that  ilk. 

Upon  this  occasion  Madame  Bringuesingue  was 


54       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

attired  in  a  gown  that  was  too  short  and  exposed 
her  shoes,  which  pinched  her  dreadfully,  but  she 
hoped  to  dance,  and  expected  to  make  a  sensation 
at  the  ball.  Mademoiselle  Clodora  held  herself  as 
straight  and  stiff  as  a  ramrod,  in  order  to  give  her- 
self importance,  and  her  father  walked  about,  not 
daring  to  take  his  eyes  off  Comtois  whenever  he 
wanted  to  do  or  say  anything. 

Everything  was  ordered  to  please  and  gratify 
the  company,  and  M.  Bringuesingue  looked  com- 
placently around  his  drawing-room,  which  was 
furnished  precisely  as  had  been  that  of  the  deceased 
count,  and  said  to  himself, — 

"  There  is  nothing  there  that  smells  of  mus- 
tard 1  " 

Every  time  the  bell  rang,  M.  Bringuesingue  had 
the  habit  of  running  towards  the  antechamber,  but 
Comtois  pulled  him  back  by  his  coat  tail. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  servant,  "  you  should 
await  your  guests  in  your  drawing-room,  and  not 
go  forward  to  meet  every  one." 

"  Very  well,  Comtois.  I  won't  stir  from  my 
drawing-room.  But  what  must  I  do  when  we  go 
to  dinner  ? " 

"Then  you  will  take  a  lady's  hand  and  lead  the 
procession." 

"  Very  well,  Comtois  ;  and  then  shall  I  seat  my- 
self at  the  table  the  first?" 

"  No,  you  will  first  of  all  seat  the  lady  you  take 
in,  on  your  right;  and  you  will  choose  another  to 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        55 

sit  at  your  left.  Madame  will  do  the  same  with 
two  gentlemen." 

"  Well,  but  don't  they  write  the  names  of  the 
guests  on  some  cards  ?  " 

"No,  monsieur,  that  is  old-fashioned — com- 
mon ;  it  is  not  done  now.  The  remainder  will 
place  themselves  according  to  their  fancy.  Of 
course  it  is  still  easy  for  you  to  indicate  certain 
places  to  certain  people,  so  they  may  be  near  those 
with  whom  they  are  most  congenial." 

"  I  understand,  Comtois,  I  quite  understand  all 
that.  Besides,  I  shall  always  have  an  eye  on  your 
nose  and  if  I  should  be  about  to  commit  a  blun- 
der you  will  warn  me." 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

The  company  came.  M.  Bringuesingue  greeted 
people  exactly  as  his  servant  had  taught  him  ; 
Madame  Bringuesingue  made  a  grimace  at  each 
person  who  came  in,  because  she  had  to  get  on  her 
feet  and  her  shoes  caused  her  continual  suffering ; 
but  generally  speaking  they  thought  she  was  smil- 
ing ;  Mademoiselle  Clodora  stood  as  straight  as 
a  Cossack  officer  and  the  whole  company  exchanged 
the  customary  compliments,  not  one  word  of  which 
they  meant  —  which  is  also  customary. 

Edmond  Guerval  accepted  the  invitation  which 
he  had  received  ;  for  the  evening  before  M.  Pause 
had  proposed  that  he  should  copy  some  author's 
manuscripts,  and  that  had  put  him  in  such  a  bad 
temper  that  he  had  great  need  of  distraction. 


S6       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

They  went  to  take  their  places  at  the  table,  and 
either  by  chance  or  intention  they  placed  Edmond 
beside  Mademoiselle  Clodora. 

The  first  course  passed  off  very  well;  the  guests 
were  amiable,  the  food  well  cooked  and  served,  and 
M.  Bringuesingue  was  delighted  with  himself,  for 
Comtois  had  not  once  put  his  finger  to  his  nose. 

At  the  second  course,  M.  Bringuesingue,  feel- 
ing more  at  his  ease,  wished  to  touch  glasses  in 
drinking  his  wife's  health.  As  he  held  out  his 
glass  to  his  neighbor,  he  saw  that  Comtois  was 
scratching  his  nose;  the  retired  mustard  dealer  re- 
mained motionless,  daring  neither  to  withdraw  nor 
tender  his  glass  ;  then  he  stammered, — 

"  I  offered  to  touch  glasses  —  however  I  know 
very  well  that  that  is  not  done  now  —  people  in 
good  society  do  not  touch  glasses — it  is  bad  form." 

But  Edmond  interrupted  M.  Bringuesingue, 
exclaiming, — 

"  And  why  should  not  this  old  custom,  which 
was  held  in  such  high  esteem  by  our  good  ances- 
tors —  now-a-days  people  want  everything  to  be 
Gothic,  after  the  style  of  the  middle  ages  —  why 
should  we  not  do  as  to  the  customs  of  our  tables 
as  we  attempt  to  do  in  our  costumes  ?  Really, 
M.  Bringuesingue,  your  idea  is  a  very  good  one, 
and  you  ought  to  congratulate  yourself  on  having 
entered  the  lists.  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  clink 
our  glasses,  let  us  do  things  in  knightly  fashion." 

M.  Bringuesingue  was  delighted  that  his  young 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       57 

guest  should  have  skilfully  retrieved  his  error ;  they 
touched  their  glasses  and  drank  to  the  happy 
thought  of  the  master  of  the  house,  and  that  which 
would  have  been  ridiculous  became  a  mark  of  good 
taste,  because  a  young  man,  suspecting  nothing, 
had  applauded  instead  of  laughed  at  it. 

The  dessert  arrived,  M.  Bringuesingue,  who 
now  felt  very  cheerful  and  who  was  quite  proud  of 
having  successfully  renewed  an  ancient  custom, 
proposed  a  little  song. 

As  he  was  going  to  set  the  example  and  let  them 
hear  a  little  couplet  he  looked  at  Comtois;  the  lat- 
ter was  rubbing  his  nose  of  set  purpose. 

M.  Bringuesingue  remained  with  his  mouth 
open,  he  looked  like  a  china  image  and  every  one 
was  expecting  him  to  begin.  But  instead  of  sing- 
ing M.  Bringuesingue  said, — 

"  I  proposed  to  you  to  sing,  but  it  was  only  a 
joke  —  I  know  very  well  that  people  no  longer 
sing  at  table,  it  is  no  longer  the  custom —  and  then 
I  don't  know  any  songs  —  " 

"  By  Jove !  Monsieur  de  Bringuesingue,  here 
you  are  again  with  your  scruples.  You  are  really 
too  strict  an  observer  of  etiquette.  Does  not  the 
custom  of  singing  at  the  table  also  date  from  the 
good  old  times  when  they  at  once  turned  every- 
thing into  a  song  or  ballad  ?  Why  should  we 
of  today  not  do  the  same  ?  We  have  touched  our 
glasses,  we  may  very  well  sing,  for  one  thing  ac- 
cords with  the  other.     We  do  but  resume  the 


58       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

fashions  of  our  ancestors.  I  wager  it  will  come 
into  fashion  yet  like  the  ball  costume.  I  am  quite 
wilHng,  I  will  sing  you  *  Bonne  Esperance,'  a  new 
ballad  by  Frederic  Berat,  the  author  of  *  Ma  Nor- 
mandie*  and  so  many  other  charming  productions, 
and  at  table  as  well  as  in  the  drawing-room,  I  am 
sure  it  will  afford  you  pleasure." 

Edmond  sang  and  was  highly  applauded,  another 
young  man  did  the  same,  a  lady  willingly  sang 
and  another  followed  her;  in  short  every  one 
wanted  to  sing,  and  M.  Bringuesingue  was  very 
much  delighted  with  Edmond,  who  had  so  skil- 
fully turned  his  awkwardness  into  bright  ideas. 

After  they  had  had  enough  singing  they  went 
into  the  drawing-room.  There  the  card  tables  were 
being  arranged ;  but  M.  Bringuesingue  did  not 
like  cards.  However,  they  could  not  dance,  for 
as  yet  there  were  not  enough  people;  but,  although 
Madame  Bringuesingue  was  as  lame  as  possible, 
she  had  already  placed  herself  several  times  and 
called  for  a  vis-a-vis,  they  could  not  form  a  contra- 
dance,  for  most  of  the  guests  preferred  bouillotte 
to  ladies*  chain. 

To  amuse  his  wife  and  daughter,  M.  Bringue- 
singue saw  nothing  better  than  to  propose  a  game 
of  hot  cockles,  and  the  host  had  already  got  down 
on  his  knees,  and  was  going  to  offer  his  back  when 
he  saw  his  valet  in  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room 
who,  while  putting  candles  on  a  table  and  dispos- 
ing seats,  scratched  his  nose  continually. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        S9 

M.  Bringuesingue  remained  on  his  knees  before 
the  company,  but  he  did  not  offer  a  back,  and 
when  he  had  again  looked  at  Comtois  he  decided 
to  pick  himself  up,  saying, — 

"  No,  I  really  think  it  would  be  very  bad  form 
to  play  hot  cockles.  We  must  leave  such  puerile 
amusements  to  the  good  bourgeois  of  the  Rue 
Saint-Denis  —  but  in  the  Chaussee-d'Antin  — " 

Edmond  who  had  been  about  to  take  part  in 
the  parlor  games,  having  his  own  reasons  for  avoid- 
ing cards,  again  interrupted  his  host,  saying, — 

"  Well,  is  no  one  free  to  do  as  he  likes,  to  amuse 
himself  In  the  Chaussee-d'Antin  ?  As  for  me,  I 
think  these  simple  games  are  far  better  than  bouil- 
lotte  and  ecarte !  They  make  one  laugh  and  one 
loses  no  money  at  them — both  of  which  are  bene- 
ficial results.  Besides,  our  greatest  men  have  been 
fond  of  the  most  frivolous  recreations.  Cardinal 
Richelieu  used  to  exercise  himself  in  his  garden 
by  jumping  with  his  feet  close  together;  Cato  was 
very  fond  of  dancing ;  Antiochus  played  charades 
with  Cleopatra;  and  good  King  Henri  IV  used  to 
walk  on  all  fours  with  his  children  on  his  back." 

"If  Henri  IV  walked  on  all  fours,"  said 
M.  Bringuesingue,  "  I  don't  see  why  Comtois 
rubbed  his  nose  when  I  got  down  on  my  knees. 
They  may  play  hot  cockles  with  my  hearty  con- 
sent. 

Edmond  had  already  taken  the  place  of  the 
master  of  the  house;  he  held  his  hand  on  his  back 


So       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

and  each  one  struck  it,  laughing  heartily,  for  peo- 
ple laugh  a  good  deal  in  these  little  simple  games. 
This  diversion  was  prolonged  for  some  time  to  the 
immense  gratification  of  Mademoiselle  Clodoraand 
her  father.  However,  several  persons  having  ar- 
rived to  increase  the  gathering,  Madame  Bringue- 
singue,  who  was  longing  to  dance  and  who  did  not 
wish  to  suffer  all  day  in  her  shoes  without  having 
her  little  feet  admired  in  the  evening,  found  a  way 
to  organize  a  contra-dance  and  begged  Edmond  to 
take  his  place  at  the  piano. 

Constance's  cousin  did  not  allow  her  to  ask  him 
twice ;  he  played  several  quadrilles.  Madame 
Bringuesingue  was  indefatigable ;  she  had  no  sooner 
finished  one  dance  than  she  looked  for  a  partner 
to  begin  again.  As  gentlemen  were  not  very  num- 
erous in  the  dance,  M.  Bringuesingue  decided  to 
invite  his  wife  to  dance  with  him,  a  thing  he  had 
not  done  for  a  long  time. 

But  the  ex-mustard  dealer  got  mixed  up  in  the 
figures  sometimes  and  in  one  of  them,  when  they 
were  playing  the  music  of  the  "  Puritan  "  quadrille, 
which,  no  doubt,  he  took  for  "  The  Little  Milk- 
maid," he  ran  after  the  lady  who  was  advancing 
and  retreating  opposite  him  and  tried  to  kiss  her. 

The  lady  tried  to  escape  M.  Bringuesingue's  arms, 
but  the  latter  was  pursuing  her  with  great  leaps 
when  at  the  entrance  to  the  drawing-room  he  saw 
Comtois  scratching  his  nose  fit  to  make  it  bleed. 

M..  Bringuesingue  stopped  with  one  leg  in  the 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        6i 

air  and  his  arm  curved.  Finally,  he  decided  to 
place  his  foot  on  the  floor  and  exclaimed, — 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  I  am  thinking  of! 
I  am  so  stupid.  I  thought  we  were  dancing  *Thc 
Little  Milkmaid,'  but  they  don't  dance  that  now 
—  it's  bad  form." 

"  Pardon  me,  M.  de  Bringuesingue,"  said  Ed- 
mond  without  leaving  the  piano,  "  they  ought  to 
dance  it  again,  for  old  airs  are  again  in  favor  since 
Musard  has  written  a  gothic  quadrille  —  and  that 
was  a  happy  thought  of  yours  to  dance  'The  Little 
Milkmaid ' ;  you  will  put  it  into  fashion  again." 

After  finishing  the  "  Puritan  "  quadrille,  Edmond 
began  to  play  "The  Little  Milkmaid"  in  such  a 
hearty  fashion  that  all  were  compelled  to  dance  the 
figure  that  the  host  had  begun. 

"  Decidedly  this  young  man  is  a  good  deal 
sharper  than  Comtois,"  said  M.  Bringuesingue ; 
"the  one  does  nothing  but  scratch  his  nose  to  warn 
me  that  I  am  doing  something  stupid,  and  the 
other  turns  everything  so  that  all  I  do  is  bright 
and  clever.  He  calls  me  *  De  Bringuesingue.' 
Those  who  hear  will  do  the  same,  and  little  by 
little  the  *  de '  will  become  a  part  of  my  name, 
which  will  end  in  making  a  nobleman  of  me.  Oh, 
if  I  always  had  this  young  man  near  me  I  should 
conduct  myself  much  better  in  society." 


CHAPTER  V 

A  Proposition.     Self-sacrifice 

Everybody  had  gone,  and  the  Bringuesingue 
family,  finding  themselves  alone,  were  unsparing 
in  their  praises  of  Edmond  Guerval,  for,  apart 
from  all  the  good  turns  he  had  rendered  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house,  he  had  played  the  piano  and  en- 
gaged in  the  game  of  hot  cockles  in  so  very 
obliging  a  manner  that  the  mother  and  daughter 
were  delighted  with  him. 

Meanwhile,  M.  Bringuesingue  gave  himself  up 
more  than  ever  to  his  mania  for  playing  the  noble- 
man, and  went  a  good  deal  into  such  society  as  his 
twenty-five  thousand  francs  income  gained  him 
admission  to ;  but  Edmond  was  not  always  there 
to  repair  the  ex-mustard  dealer's  mistakes,  and  then 
the  latter,  being  duly  warned  by  his  servant,  did 
not  know  how  to  get  out  of  his  predicaments. 

Finally,  at  a  grand  dinner  given  by  an  advocate, 
to  which  M.  Bringuesingue  had  been  invited,  he 
fell  into  so  many  blunders  that  Comtois'  nose,  by 
dint  of  scratching,  was  as  red  as  a  cherry ;  and  on 
their  return  home  the  master  quarrelled  with  his 
servant. 

"  I  cannot  cut  my  bread  or  ask  for  a  little  more 

62 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        63 

soup,"  said  M.  Bringueslngue  to  Comtois, "  with- 
out seeing  you  touch  your  nose.  It  disturbs  me 
and  embarrasses  me,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  am 
doing." 

"  No  one  cuts  his  bread  or  asks  for  more  soup," 
said  Comtois,  "  it  is  very  bad  form  ;  you  told  me 
to  warn  you  when  you  did  unconventional  things, 
and  I  did  warn  you.  It's  not  my  fault  that  you 
are  always  doing  them." 

"  If  M.  Edmond  had  been  there  he  would  have 
managed  it  so  that  instead  of  having  done  some- 
thing foolish,  I  should  have  done  something  very 
witty.  That  restores  my  self-confidence,  my  assur- 
ance, and  enables  me  to  make  myself  amiable 
again  ;  but  you  bother  me,  and  I  don't  know  where 

am. 

"  Confound  it,  monsieur,  it  is  not  very  enter- 
taining to  me  to  be  so  often  obliged  to  warn  you 
that  you  are  committing  a  solecism.  Since  I  have 
been  in  your  service  my  nose  has  grown  one-third 
larger." 

"  That  is  not  true  !  " 

"  I  must  have  an  increase  of  a  hundred  crowns 
or  I  can't  stay  with  you." 

"  You  have  a  thousand  crowns  from  me  now, 
and  you  do  hardly  anything  but  scratch  your  nose ; 
it  seems  to  me  that  is  quite  enough,  and  I  shall  not 
increase  it." 

"  Then  I  shall  leave  you,  monsieur." 

M.  Bringuesingue  allowed  his  servant  to  go  with- 


64       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

out  regrets;  since  he  had  seen  Edmond  applaud 
all  that  Comtois  blamed,  the  count's  valet  had  lost 
much  merit  in  his  sight;  on  the  other  hand  young 
Guervalhad  become  indispensable,  and  nearly  every- 
day the  Bringuesingue  family  sent  him  invitations. 

When  Comtois  was  dismissed  M.  Bringuesingue 
said  to  himself, — 

"  Although  I  have  acquired  very  good  manners, 
I  feel  that  sometimes  I  am  still  a  little  embarrassed 
in  society.  M.  Edmond  is  the  only  person  who 
knows  how  to  present  my  actions  there  in  an  ad- 
vantageous light.  If  that  young  man  was  always 
with  us  I  should  always  do  the  right  thing  and 
should  be  taken  altogether  for  a  gentleman ;  now 
how  can  I  attach  M.  Edmond  to  us.  Hang  it! 
I  can  give  my  daughter  in  marriage  to  him.  The 
young  man  has  confessed  to  me  that  unfortunate 
speculations  have  deprived  him  of  his  fortune ;  but 
he  is  very  gentlemanly  and  accustomed  to  good 
society,  moreover,  he  always  calls  me  De  Bringue- 
singue. 1  have  but  one  daughter,  and  I  greatly 
prefer  that  she  should  marry  a  gentlemanly  man, 
whose  fortune  she  would  make,  than  a  rich  clown, 
whose  manners  would  be  bad  and  who  would  al- 
ways be  joking  me  about  mustard  or  mushrooms." 

M.  Bringuesingue  imparted  his  plan  to  his  wife, 
who  jumped  for  joy ;  for,  with  a  son-in-law  who 
played  so  well  on  the  piano,  she  hoped  to  be  able 
to  dance  every  day.  Clodora  was  also  informed 
of  their  project,  and,  like  a  submissive  girl,  she 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        6$ 

curtseyed  and  answered  that  she  would  obey  her 
parents  with  pleasure. 

It  only  remained,  therefore,  to  sound  the  young 
man.  M.  Bringuesingue,  who  did  not  doubt  but 
what  Edmond  would  be  only  too  happy  to  marry 
his  daughter,  undertook  to  inform  him  what  he 
wished  to  do  for  his  happiness. 

He  invited  Edmond  to  lunch  tete-a-tete  with 
him,  and  at  dessert  he  rubbed  his  hands  as  he  said 
to  his  guest, — 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  are  of  good  family,  I 
know  ;  you  have  received  a  fine  education,  that  is 
easily  seen ;  you  have  wit,  and  that  goes  a  long 
way  with  me ;  so,  although  you  have  no  fortune, 
I  wish  to  ensure  your  happiness.  With  this  in 
view,  I  will  give  you  my  daughter  in  marriage.  She 
is  my  only  child ;  I  have  twenty-five  thousand 
livres  income  ;  I  shall  give  her  half  of  it ;  we  will 
all  live  together,  and  you  shall  manage  the  house." 

Edmond  was  astonished  at  this  ofi^er,  which  was 
quite  unexpected  to  him.  He  remained  for  some 
moments  silent,  uncertain ;  at  length  he  remem- 
bered his  cousin  and  answered, — 

"  I  am  greatly  moved  and  flattered  by  your 
proposition,  monsieur,  but  —  I  cannot  marry," 

"  You  cannot  marry  ?  Perhaps  you  are  already 
married  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"In  that  case  I  don't  see  what  is  to  prevent 
your  marrying  my  daughter." 

Vol.  XX 


ee       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIlSr 

"  Monsieur,  I  deeply  regret  the  fact,  but — " 

"  But  just  think  of  it,  my  dear  fellow  !  Made- 
moiselle Clodora  Bringuesingue  is  a  splendid 
match — " 

"  That  is  exactly  why  — " 

"  Oh,  I  understand — delicacy  on  your  part;  you 
want  to  be  rich  also,  and  not  owe  everything  to 
your  wife.  But  I  must  tell  you  again,  that  we  care 
nothing  for  that.  To  make  money  is  not  the  only 
consideration ;  fie  !  we'll  leave  that  to  parvenus  ; 
a  distinguished  appearance  and  the  manners  of  good 
society,  that  is  what  I  consider.  You  suit  me  ;  I 
have  sent  Comtois  off,  I  want  to  follow  your  ad- 
vice only.  From  this  moment  look  upon  your- 
self as  one  of  the  family  —  oh,  I  don't  want  to 
hear  anything ;  reflect  upon  it,  and  you  will  find 
that  you  cannot  refuse  my  daughter." 

Edmond  left  M.  Bringuesingue ;  and  the  propo- 
sition the  latter  had  made  him  became  from  that 
time  forth  the  continual  subject  of  his  reflections. 

While  all  this  was  passing  Constance,  who  had 
sacrificed  her  fortune  to  her  cousin,  worked  assidu- 
ously and  without  complaint  beside  Pelagic,  who 
continued  to  tease  M.  Ginguet. 

Constance  wept  sometimes,  it  is  true,  but  it  was 
in  the  silence  of  the  night  when  no  one  could  see 
her  tears  or  hear  her  sobs,  for  the  young  girl  could 
see  that  every  day  her  cousin  abridged  his  visits 
to  M.  Pause's  ;  and  when  he  was  with  her,  instead 
of  talking  to  her  with  the  freedom  that  love  permits, 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        67 

Edmond  remained  cold,  cautious,  and  sometimes 
even  said  nothing.  At  first  Constance  had  attribu- 
ted this  to  the  mortification  which  her  cousin  might 
experience  at  his  reverses  of  fortune,  but  in  the 
depths  of  her  heart  something  said  to  her, — 

"If  he  loved  me  as  I  love  him  would  he  not 
have  something  else  to  think  about  but  the  loss  of 
his  money  ?  Am  I,  then,  nothing  to  him  ?  and, 
since  I  am  left  to  him,  why  should  he  not  be 
happy  ? " 

Pelagie  no  longer  dared  to  mention  her  brides- 
maid's costume ;  M.  Ginguet  himself  dared  not 
sigh  aloud,  for  he  feared  that  it  might  grieve  Con- 
stance to  hear  him  speak  of  love  in  her  hearing, 
when  the  one  she  loved  so  much  never  spoke  of 
it  to  her.  As  for  good  M.  Pause,  he  was  continu- 
ally looking  for  employment  of  some  kind  for 
Edmond,  and  often  had  something  to  propose  to 
him  ;  but  in  order  that  he  might  not  have  to  listen 
to  the  old  musician  Edmond  always  left  before  he 
came  back  from  the  theatre. 

Several  days  passed,  during  which  Edmond  did 
not  come  regularly  ;  then  his  visits  became  shorter 
than  usual,  and  he  was  even  more  absent-minded 
and  preoccupied. 

"  There  is  certainly  something  the  matter  with 
your  cousin,"  said  Pelagie  one  evening  to  Con- 
stance ;  "  he  comes  here  to  sit  down  in  a  corner  and 
sigh,  and  hardly  speak.  No  doubt  he  has  some 
new  plan  in  his  head,  he  wants  to  make  himself 


68       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

rich  again,  and  to  surprise  you  with  handsome 
presents  when  he  marries  you.  I'll  wager  he  thinks 
of  that  incessantly." 

Constance  shook  her  head  and  made  no  reply 
to  this.  Presently  came  M.  Ginguet,  who  said  to 
the  young  girls, — 

"  I  know  now  why  M.  Edmond  is  so  often  in 
a  brown  study.  I  met  him  this  morning  and  we 
talked  together  for  a  long  time.  When  young  men 
get  together  they  talk  about  their  affairs." 

"For  mercy's  sake,  M.  Ginguet,  come  to  the 
point." 

"  M.  Edmond  mentioned  the  Bringuesingue 
family  to  me,  he  goes  there  very  often.  They  are 
very  rich  people  —  retired  business  people — who 
have  only  one  daughter  —  a  rather  nice-looking 
young  person  —  but  she  halts  a  little  when  she 
walks." 

"  What,  then,  M.  Ginguet  ?  " 

"  Finally,  Edmond  said  to  me,  *  You  can't  ima- 
gine, my  dear  fellow,  what  M.  Bringuesingue  has 
proposed  to  me?*   *  By  Jove,  no,  I  can't,'  I  replied, 

*  in  the  first  place,  I  am  not  very  good  at  guessing.  I 
have  never  so  much  as  guessed  a  charade  or  a  rebus.' " 

"Oh,  M.  Ginguet,  you  abuse  our  patience," 
said  Pelagie. 

"  Excuse  me,  mademoiselle,  I  am  only  repeating 
our  conversation  to  you.     *  Well,'  said  Edmond, 

*  M.  Bringuesingue  has  offered  me  his  daughter  in 
marriage.' " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        69 

"  Daughter  ? "  said  Constance,  changing  color. 

"You  are  telling  a  falsehood,  M.  Ginguet,"  said 
Pelagie ;  "  M.  Edmond  could  not  have  told  you 
that." 

"  I  swear  to  you,  mademoiselle,  that  it  is  the 
exact  truth.  But  don't  grieve  over  it.  Mademoi- 
selle Constance,  for  your  cousin  added,  *  You  may 
well  imagine,  my  dear  Ginguet,  that  I  refused. 
Although  I  haven't  a  sou,  and  Mademoiselle  Clo- 
dora  is  rich,  I  could  not  accept,  for  I  am  bound  to 
my  cousin  by  friendship,  gratitude,  and  duty.  I 
look  upon  her  already  as  my  wife.  Our  mothers 
betrothed  us  and  — '  Good  heavens,  mademoi- 
selle !  are  you  ill  ?  " 

Constance,  in  truth,  could  not  support  herself; 
she  had  let  her  head  fall  back  on  her  chair  and 
seemed  about  to  lose  consciousness;  Pelagie  sup- 
ported her,  and  made  her  inhale  some  salts,  saying 
meanwhile  to  M.  Ginguet, — 

"  A  nice  thing  for  you  to  come  and  tell  that ! 
oh,  what  a  gossip  you  are !  and  you  never  have 
anything  but  bad  news  to  tell." 

"  Why,  mademoiselle,  there's  nothing  bad  in 
that  news;  on  the  contrary,  M.  Edmond  has  not 
the  slightest  intention  of  marrying  anyone  but  his 
cousin." 

"  All  the  same,  you  shouldn't  have  told  that  to 
Constance." 

As  the  latter  opened  her  eyes,  Ginguet  exclaimed 
again,— 


70      EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"  I  assure  you,  mademoiselle,  upon  my  honor, 
that  your  cousin  said  to  me  :  '  If  they  were  to  offer 
me  a  woman  with  a  million,  I  would  not  take  her 
—  because  I  cannot.  I  look  upon  myself  as  bound 
to  my  cousin — and  I  am  incapable  of  faiHng  in  my 
duty.  I  would  not  accept  a  princess  or  a  duchess, 
an  honest  man  can  but  keep  his  word.' " 

"That  is  right  —  that's  right,  M.  Ginguet,  I 
thank  you  for  having  told  me  all  this." 

"It  gives  you  pleasure,  does  it  not,  mademoi- 
selle ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  glad  to  know  it." 

Poor  Constance  spoke  no  more  during  the  re- 
mainder of  the  evening,  despite  all  Pelagie's  efforts 
to  enliven  and  all  M.  Ginguet's  attempts  to  cheer 
her  by  exclaiming  from  time  to  time, — 

"  M.  Edmond  Guerval  is  an  honest  young  man, 
he  would  refuse  the  possessor  of  a  gold  mine  for 
a  wife  —  he  looks  upon  himself  as  bound  to  his 
cousin." 

Pelagic  nudged  Ginguet  and  kicked  him  under 
the  table  to  silence  him  every  time  he  adverted  to 
the  subject. 

When  Constance  found  herself  alone  in  her 
room  she  felt  she  could  abandon  herself  to  her  sor- 
row, for  the  young  girl  was  under  no  delusion ; 
she  felt  sure  that  if  her  cousin  had  refused  the  rich 
match  that  had  been  proposed  to  him  it  was  be- 
cause he  believed  himself  bound  to  her  to  such  an 
extent  that  he  could  not  dispose  of  himself. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        71 

"  But  it  is  not  love  for  me  that  causes  him  to 
refuse  another,"  said  Constance  to  herself;  "  oh, 
no,  for  if  my  cousin  loved  me  he  would  not  be  so 
sad  and  dreamy  when  with  me.  He  will  fulfil  his 
duty  in  marrying  me,  that  is  all,  and  he  will  be 
unhappy  —  doubly  unhappy  because  I  shall  have 
prevented  his  enjoying  the  brilliant  future  which 
opens  out  before  him.  But,  because  I  was  once 
able  to  oblige  him,  does  he  suppose  that  I  wish  to 
be  an  obstacle  to  his  fortune,  that  I  shall  exact  from 
his  gratitude  the  sacrifice  of  his  liberty,  his  future. 
I  love  Edmond  too  deeply  to  be  willing  to  deprive 
him  of  all  the  advantages  he  would  find  in  such  a 
union  as  the  one  that  is  proposed  to  him.  What 
does  it  matter  if  I  die  of  grief  later  on,  provided 
that  my  cousin  is  happy  ?  What  if  I  should  tell 
him  he  is  free,  and  advise  him  to  marry  this  Made- 
moiselle Clodora? — he  would  not  obey  me.  Oh, 
no,  I  know  Edmond — he  would  be  fearful  of  caus- 
ing me  pain.  My  God !  how  can  I  manage  so  that 
he  may  think  himself  free  to  marry  without  griev- 
ing me  ?  It  is  necessary,  yes,  absolutely  necessary, 
that  he  should  believe  that  I  no  longer  love  him." 

All  night  poor  Constance  wept  and  tried  to  think 
by  what  means  she  could  make  her  cousin  believe 
that  she  had  ceased  to  love  him,  in  order  that  he 
might  not  think  he  was  acting  badly  in  marrying 
some  one  else. 

Towards  morning  she  had  conceived  a  plan 
which  could  not  fail  to  accomplish  the  end  she  had 


72       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

in  view.  It  was  hardly  light  when  she  sat  down 
to  write  a  draft  of  a  letter;  then,  as  soon  as  it  was 
time  to  go  out,  she  went  to  a  public  scribe  and  had 
him  write  the  letter  from  her  copy,  dictated  the 
address  to  him,  and,  with  a  full  heart,  hardly  able 
to  breathe,  she  directed  her  steps  towards  a  pillar 
post  to  drop  into  it  the  fatal  letter. 

The  young  girl  was  trembling  and  hardly  had 
the  strength  to  walk  along  the  street;  several  times 
she  passed  a  letter  box  and  could  not  make  up  her 
mind  to  drop  the  letter  into  it ;  she  felt  that  the 
happiness  of  her  whole  life  would  go  with  it.  It 
was  her  future  and  the  illusions  of  her  youth  that 
she  was  going  to  sacrifice ;  her  portion  would  be 
tears  and  the  memory  of  a  fine  action,  and  at  twenty 
years  a  great  deal  of  courage  is  necessary  for  the 
accomplishment  of  so  great  a  sacrifice.  There  are 
many  people  who  live  and  die  without  the  ability 
to  understand  such  actions. 

However,  the  morning  was  passing,  and  Con- 
stance had  not  yet  dropped  her  letter  into  the  post; 
she  scolded  herself  for  her  weakness  and  running 
towards  a  box  which  she  saw  at  the  door  of  a  cafe, 
she  tremblingly  dropped  into  it  the  missive  she 
had  dictated.  But,  then,  a  mist  obscured  her  sight, 
and  she  was  obliged  to  sit  down  for  a  moment  on 
a  stone  bench  which  stood  near. 

This  bench  she  recognized  as  one  on  which  she 
had  rested  on  that  evening  when  in  M.  Ginguet's 
company  she  had  scoured  all  Paris  in  search  of 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        73 

Edmond  and  had  obliged  her  companion  to  go  into 
all  the  cafes  they  had  passed.  This  remembrance 
brought  fresh  tears  to  her  eyes,  for  in  looking  for 
Edmond  then  she  had  not  thought  that  one  day 
she  would  voluntarily  renounce  his  love. 

But  the  sacrifice  was  not  yet  complete.  Con- 
stance remembered  that  she  needed  a  great  deal  of 
courage  for  the  part  she  had  yet  to  perform ;  and 
summoning  all  her  strength  she  rose  from  the 
bench  and  went  home. 

During  the  course  of  the  day  Edmond,  who 
was  at  home  and  alone,  was  reviewing  his  situation, 
his  cousin's  love,  and  M.  Bringuesingue's  propo- 
sition when  the  porter  carried  up  to  him  a  letter 
which  the  postman  had  just  brought. 

Edmond  glanced  at  the  writing,  which  he  did 
not  know,  and  he  carelessly  took  it  out  of  its 
envelope  like  one  who  expects  neither  good  nor 
bad  news. 

The  letter  bore  no  name,  but  Edmond's  face 
changed  as  he  read  these  words, — 

You  believe  that  your  cousin  Constance  loves  you,  but  you 
are  mistaken  ;  for  a  long  time  past  her  heart  has  been  given  to 
another.  If  you  doubt  what  is  here  written,  go  between  seven 
and  eight  o'clock  this  evening  to  the  boulevard  Saint-Martin  near 
the  Chateau-d'Eau  ;  you  will  see  your  inconstant  cousin  awaiting 
your  fortunate  rival  there.     Adieu, 

One  Who  is  Interested  in  Your  Welfare. 

"  Constance  loves  another !  "  said  Edmond,  an- 
grily crushing  the  letter  in  his  hands.     "  That  is 


74      EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

a  shameful  calumny — the  writer  of  this  letter  is  a 
wretch  !  Constance,  who  is  a  model  of  virtue  and 
who  has  given  me  such  great  proofs  of  her  attach- 
ment —  Constance  deceives  .me !  for  it  would  be 
deceiving  me,  her  future  husband.  But  it  was  an 
anonymous  letter,  and  only  mischievous  persons 
write  those ;  persons  who  really  wish  to  do  any 
one  a  service  are  not  afraid  to  sign  their  names." 

However,  even  while  he  said  this,  Edmond 
felt  agitated,  uneasy;  calumny,  even  when  utterly 
absurd,  always  finds  a  way  of  disturbing  our  peace. 
And  —  singular  effect  of  passion  and  of  true  love 
in  the  hearts  of  men  —  Edmond,  who  a  few  mo- 
ments previously  thought  but  coldly  and  gloomily 
of  his  union  with  his  cousin;  Edmond,  who  when 
certain  that  she  loved  him  had  taken  so  little 
trouble  to  show  her  that  he  returned  her  love, — 
Edmond  felt  jealously  and  passionately  in  love 
with  Constance  now  that  he  thought  she  could 
love  another.  He  walked  agitatedly  about  his 
room,  rereading  the  note,  which  at  first  he  had 
thrown  on  the  floor;  he  repeated  all  he  had  before 
said  as  to  the  little  reliance  one  should  place  in 
an  anonymous  letter,  but  from  time  to  time  he 
exclaimed, — 

"  However,  what  could  be  the  object  of  the 
writer  in  sending  me  this  letter  ?  Constance  for 
some  time  past  has  neither  spoken  of  our  marriage 
nor  of  love  —  it  is  true  that  I  have  not  spoken  to 
her  on  those  subjects  either.     I  have  nothing,  no 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        75 

occupation,  no  future ;  she  may  have  thought  of 
this,  and  some  one  has  advised  her  to  forget  me. 
But  Constance  loved  me  so  dearly !  No,  it  is 
impossible !  And  then  this  appointment  in  the 
evening,  near  the  Chateau-d'Eau ;  she  has  never 
done  anything  of  that  sort,  it  is  an  odious  lie. 
But,  as  the  writer  says,  I  can  assure  myself  as  to 
whether  it  is  true  or  not  with  my  eyes.  Why,  it 
would  be  an  insult  to  Constance  were  I  to  go  there, 
I  should  not  see  her.  Some  one  is  making  game 
of  me.  No,  I  shall  certainly  not  go  to  assure  my- 
self as  to  the  truth  of  what  they  have  written  to  me." 

As  he  thought  thus,  time  passed  slowly  for 
Edmond.  He  often  looked  at  his  watch,  he  was 
impatient  for  the  approach  of  the  hour  that  had 
been  mentioned  to  him.  He  could  not  eat  his 
dinner  for  he  was  not  hungry ;  he  longed  for  the 
evening,  and  at  seven  o'clock  was  on  the  boule- 
vard near  the  Chateau-d'Eau,  although  he  still 
kept  repeating  that  he  should  be  wrong  to  go  there. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  rolled  by,  Edmond  had 
seen  no  one  who  in  the  least  resembled  his  cousin; 
his  heart  dilated,  and  he  breathed  more  freely,  as 
he  said, — 

"  By  Jove ;  how  can  any  one  put  faith  in  anony- 
mous letters  ?  Those  who  write  them  ordinarily 
deserve  all  the  threats,  all  the  epithets  they  address 
to  others." 

Suddenly  Edmond  perceived  a  woman  whose 
figure  recalled  that  of  Constance.     He  waited,  he 


76       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

stopped,  he  felt  a  frightful  weight  oppressing  his 
chest.  It  was  almost  dark;  this  woman  was  ad- 
vancing with  a  faltering  step,  often  looking  behind 
her  as  though  she  feared  she  was  followed ;  all  of 
which  indicated  that  she  had  come  to  meet  some 
one.  Edmond  could  hardly  breathe,  for  the  wom- 
an passed  by  him  and,  despite  the  bonnet  which 
hid  her  face,  he  recognized  Constance. 

"It  is  she  !  "  said  he,  "  it  is  she  !  they  did  not 
deceive  me.  But  no,  I  can't  believe  it,  even  now; 
my  eyes  are  deceiving  me  —  I  must  hear  her  voice." 

And  Edmond  immediately  ran  after  the  person 
who  had  just  passed ;  he  reached  her,  he  took  her 
arm.  She  turned  her  head ;  it  was  indeed  Con- 
stance and  she  was  so  pale  and  trembling,  so  agi- 
tated at  seeing  her  cousin,  that  it  all  added  to  the 
appearance  of  her  guilt. 

The  young  girl  stammered,  "  Edmond,  is  it 
you  ?  "  and  covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,"  answered  Edmond  in  furious 
tones ;  "it  is  I  whom  you  have  deceived  —  whom 
you  no  longer  love.  Be  frank,  cousin ;  tell  me 
what  you  are  here  for  alone  —  in  the  evening. 
What!  you  are  silent?  you  can  find  nothing  to 
say  to  me  ?  —  you  are  overwhelmed  ?  Then  it  is 
really  true,  Constance  ;  another  man  has  your  love, 
and  it  was  he  whom  you  hoped  to  find  here .?  " 

"  I  do  not  seek  to  deny  it,"  answered  Constance 
in  a  hardly  audible  voice.  "  Yes,  cousin,  you  are 
now  aware  of  the  truth.  I  have  ceased  to  love  you. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        77 

For  a  long  time  past  I  have  wanted  to  tell  you  so, 
but  I  dared  not.  Forgive  me  —  and  forget  me. 
Good-by,  Edmond,  it  is  useless  for  us  to  meet 
again." 

As  she  finished  these  words,  Constance  fled.  It 
was  time  the  poor  little  thing  should  depart,  for 
sobs  were  stifling  her  voice ;  and,  if  Edmond  had 
not  been  blinded  by  jealousy  he  would  have  thought 
it  very  singular  that  his  cousin  should  have  wept 
so  bitterly  when  she  told  him  that  she  had  ceased 
to  love  him. 

But  Edmond  had  heard,  had  understood  but  one 
thing,  and  that  was  that  his  cousin  had  ceased  to 
love  him,  and  that  for  a  long  time  she  had  wanted 
to  confess  it  to  him.  Edmond  felt  his  heart 
wounded,  for  he  had  believed  in  Constance's  love ; 
and  it  was  perhaps  this  positive  certainty,  this  too 
great  confidence  in  a  love  which  dated  from  infancy 
which  had  stifled  and  almost  extinguished  in  his 
breast  the  tender  feeling  he  had  had  for  his  cousin. 
One  goes  to  sleep  in  the  certainty  of  a  perfect  hap- 
piness, but  one  is  wakeful  when  one  has  some  un- 
easiness as  to  its  possession. 

Stunned  by  the  blow  he  had  received,  Edmond 
remained  on  the  boulevard  ;  he  had  allowed  his 
cousin  to  depart  without  making  the  slightest  effort 
to  detain  her. 

"  But  why  should  I  detain  her,"  thought  he,  as 
he  looked  sadly  around  him  ;  "  has  she  not  said 
that  it  would  be  useless  for  us  to  meet  again  ?  " 


78       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

A  throng  of  reflections  assailed  Edmond  ;  in 
a  moment  he  recalled  all  his  past  conduct,  his  indif- 
ference, his  coldness  to  Constance,  the  impediments 
he  had  put  in  the  way  of  their  marriage,  the  suc- 
cessive delays,  when  he  had  been  engaged  for  so 
long  to  be  his  cousin's  husband  ;  his  plans  for  ac- 
quiring fame  and  fortune,  which  had  only  resulted 
in  his  ruin,  and  which  he  never  would  have  formed 
had  he  been  contented  with  a  happiness  more  real 
than  anything  he  now  had  in  prospect. 

"  I  have  lost  Constance's  heart  through  my  own 
fault,"  said  Edmond  to  himself  sighing  ;  "  my  con- 
duct has  been  very  bad —  I  have  much  with  which 
to  reproach  myself —  however,  had  she  loved  me 
as  much  as  I  thought  she  did,  she  would  have  for- 
given me  all  that." 

But  spite  and  jealousy  again  took  possession  of 
his  soul. 

"  What  a  fool  I  am,"  he  exclaimed,  "  to  grieve, 
to  give  myself  up  to  regrets,  I  must  forget  her  as 
soon  as  possible.  A  brilliant  future  is  offered  me, 
which  nothing  now  prevents  me  from  accepting. 
In  the  midst  of  the  pleasures  which  fortune  will 
bring  I  will  lose  the  remembrance  of  my  unfaith- 
ful cousin." 

He  called  her  unfaithful  who  had  sacrificed  to 
him  all  she  possessed.  But  jealousy  is  ever  unjust ; 
it  stifles  and  extinguishes  gratitude  ;  indeed,  there 
are  not  a  few  people  who  have  no  need  of  jealousy 
to  make  them  ungrateful. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        79 

Edmond  went  in  search  of  M.  Bringuesingue, 
and  without  further  preamble  he  called  to  him  as 
soon  as  he  saw  him, — 

"  Monsieur,  I  have  changed  my  mind ;  I  have 
decided  on  accepting  your  daughter's  hand,  and 
whenever  you  like  I  will  become  your  son-in-law." 

"  By  Jove  !  my  dear  fellow,  I  was  quite  sure  it 
would  end  in  this  way,  you  could  not  seriously 
think  of  refusing  Clodora,  for  she  has  received  an 
excellent  education,  and  will  some  day  or  other 
have  an  income  of  twenty-five  thousand  livres,  you 
deserve  that  I  should  reproach  you  for  having 
seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  moment  even  —  but,  since 
you  have  consented,  it  is  needless,  I  do  not  want 
to  scold  you,  that  would  be  serving  the  mustard 
after  the  dinner.  Oh,  by  Jove!  how  did  1  come 
to  say  that  ?  That  proverb  is  in  the  worst  pos- 
sible taste  —  I  don't  know  what  I  can  be  thinking 
of.  I  meant  to  say  that — there,  I  don't  know  what 
I  meant  to  say.  Kiss  me,  son-in-law,  and  come 
and  kiss  your  mother-in-law  and  your  future  wife." 

Edmond  allowed  himself  to  be  led  to  the  per- 
son he  was  going  to  call  his  wife,  and  while  kissing 
her  he  thought  of  his  cousin  and  sighed  deeply. 
The  image  of  Constance  never  left  him  for  a  mo- 
ment; it  was  graven  in  the  depths  of  his  heart,  it 
followed  him  everywhere;  in  vain  he  sought  to  get 
rid  of  it,  to  distract  himself —  his  cousin  was  ever 
in  his  mind's  eye,  so  beautiful,  so  good,  so  loving! 
He  saw  her  as  she  was  when  her  mother  united 


8o      EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

them,  saying,  "Here  Is  your  betrothed  wife";  he 
saw  her  again  throwing  herself  at  his  knees,  and 
staying  his  hand  at  the  moment  when,  in  despair, 
he  was  trying  to  take  his  Hfe. 

"  My  God !  what  a  treasure  I  have  lost,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "and  I  hardly  took  the  trouble  to  think 
about  her  when  I  was  sure  of  possessing  her." 

But  all  these  reflections  did  not  prevent  his  mar- 
riage to  Mademoiselle  Clodora  Bringuesingue  at 
the  expiration  of  a  fortnight. 


CHAPTER  VI 
Marriage 

PiLAGiE  and  her  uncle  were  surprised  that 
Edmond  no  longer  came  to  M.  Pause's  house, 
they  could  not  account  for  his  conduct. 

Although  greatly  changed  and  suffering  deeply 
since  the  evening  on  which  she  had  gone  to  the 
Chateau-d'Eau,  Constance  hid  her  trouble  ;  she 
endeavored  to  lock  her  grief  in  the  depths  of  her 
heart,  and  she  never  pronounced  her  cousin's  name. 
When  Pelagie  blamed  him,  which  happened  nearly 
every  evening,  as  it  grew  late  without  Edmond 
appearing,  Constance  would  answer  quietly, — 

"  If  my  cousin  no  longer  comes  to  see  us,  it  is 
probably  because  he  is  otherwise  engaged  —  or 
pleasure  calls  him  elsewhere.  Why  should  you 
wish  him  to  come  and  bore  himself  here  with  us, 
when  he  has  a  thousand  opportunities  to  distract 
himself  in  society  ?  " 

"  To  bore  himself  with  us  !  Why  should  your 
cousin  feel  bored  when  with  you,  to  whom  he  owes 
everything  —  his  honor,  his  existence?  with  you 
who  are  so  good  to  him  ?  with  you  whom  he  is 
going  to  marry  ?  Really,  Constance,  I  cannot  under- 
stand the  tranquillity  with  which  you  bear  your 

Vol.  XX       8i 


82       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

cousin's  unworthy  neglect.  In  your  place  —  I 
should  write  to  him  :  *  Monsieur,  you  are  a  wretch, 
you  are  an  ungrateful,  ill-bred  man  ! '  " 

"  Why,  Pelagie,  do  you  think  that  is  the  way 
to  bring  back  a  wandering  heart  ?  " 

"  No,"  murmured  M.  Ginguet,  as  he  turned 
over  the  leaves  of  a  book,  "  one  should  never  write 
such  things  as  that.     It  is  very  unconventional." 

"  M.  Ginguet,  I  didn't  ask  your  opinion,  I 
repeat,  M.  Edmond  is  an  ungrateful  wretch,  and 
is  treating  his  cousin  shamefully." 

"  Perhaps  you  may  be  wrong  in  blaming  him, 
my  dear  Pelagie ;  you  do  not  know,  no,  you  can't 
know  what  motives  are  actuating  him.  My  cousin 
is  free  to  do  as  he  pleases  ;  I  should  be  sorry  for 
him  to  think,  because  I  once  obliged  him,  that  he 
must  be  the  slave  of  his  gratitude.  Our  parents 
wished  that  we  should  marry,  it  is  true,  but  we 
have  lost  them,  and  since  that  time  many  events 
have  transpired.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to 
regard  those  plans  of  our  youth  as  a  dream,  and 
Edmond  probably  looks  upon  it  in  that  light  also." 

"  That  is  different !  If  you  think  your  cousin 
is  right  not  to  come  and  see  you,  not  even  to  in- 
quire whether  you  are  alive,  then,  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say  —  and  I  should  be  wrong  to  blame 
him." 

Pelagie  said  nothing  more.  She  did  not  speak 
of  Edmond  for  some  time  after  this ;  but  in  the 
depths  of  her  heart  she  felt  her  impatience,  her 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        83 

anger  increase ;  for  she  was  sure  that  Constance 
was  conceaHng  the  grief  she  experienced  at  her 
cousin's  neglect.  What  else  could  it  be  that  had 
made  her  so  dreamy,  so  sad,  and  which  had  faded 
the  pink  color  from  her  cheeks,  formerly  so  fresh 
and  round  and  which  now  had  grown  so  thin  and 
so  frightfully  pale  ? 

Pelagie,  who  was  dying  to  know  what  had  be- 
come of  Edmond,  had  several  times  said  secretly 
to  M.  Ginguet, — 

"  Try  to  learn  what  he  is  doing,  what  has  become 
of  him  ;  inquire  about  him,  go  to  his  lodging,  and 
tell  me  what  you  learn." 

M.  Ginguet  had  obeyed  Mademoiselle  Pelagie, 
but  up  to  this  time  had  learned  nothing  except  that 
Edmond  was  not  living  at  his  former  lodging. 

One  evening  when  the  two  young  girls  were  ply- 
ing their  needles  beside  M.  Pause,  who  had  been 
kept  from  the  theatre  by  a  slight  attack  of  gout, 
M.  Ginguet  arrived  looking  quite  upset  and  with 
his  eyes  starting  out  of  his  head.  His  emotion  was 
so  evident  that  good  M.  Pause,  who  ordinarily 
noticed  nothing,  was  the  first  to  say  to  him, — 

"  My  dear  fellow,  have  you  also  been  seized  with 
an  attack  of  gout  on  the  way  here  ?  " 

"No,  monsieur,  no  —  but  1  would  much  rather 
have  the  gout —  I  would  much  rather  have —  I 
don't  know  what  I  wouldn't  rather  have  than  — " 

"  Have  you  lost  your  place  ? "  inquired  Con- 
stance. 


84      EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  on  the  contrary,  I  expect 
shortly  to  have  my  salary  increased  —  raised  to 
twelve  hundred  francs.  My  superiors  are  very 
well  satisfied  with  me.** 

"Then  what  makes  you  look  so  scared  ?  "  said 
Pelagic,  unmindful  of  the  signs  Ginguet  made  to 
her  when  Constance  was  not  looking. 

"Why,  because  I've  learned  some  news, fright- 
ful news  —  it  is  shameful !  after  what  he  said  to  me 
that  other  time  too.  After  all,  it  is  perhaps  quite 
as  well  that  Mademoiselle  Constance  should  know 
it." 

"  I  ? "  said  Constance  fixing  her  eyes  on  the 
young  clerk,  while  Pelagic,  who  was  beginning  to 
divine  the  nature  of  the  news  was  making  signs  to 
Ginguet  to  be  silent.  But  the  latter  was  exas- 
perated and  would  not  be  silenced ;  he  walked  up 
and  down  the  room,  striking  the  furniture  with  his 
fists  as  he  repeated, — 

"  Yes,  it  is  shameful !  it  is  conduct  quite  un- 
worthy of  a  man  who  has  the  least  spark  of  gal- 
lantry ;  one  has  engagements  or  one  has  not,  and 
if  one  has  them  he  ought  to  respect  them.  One 
should  not  trifle  with  love ;  in  my  opinion,  there 
is  nothing  that  is  more  worthy  of  respect.  I  know 
people  think  me  foolish,  but,  all  the  same,  I  would 
rather  be  foolish  than  insensitive." 

"  My  dear  fellow  !  "  said  M.  Pause,  "there  are 
many  pretty  things  in  what  you  have  just  said ; 
but  that  does  not  put  us  in  possession  of  facts. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        85 

and  Constance,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us,  is  impa- 
tient that  you  should  explain  yourself  more  clearly." 

"Well,  then.  Monsieur  Pause  —  it  is  —  I 
learned  this  evening  that  mademoiselle's  cousin  is 
married  to  Mademoiselle  Clodora  Bringuesingue." 

"  Married ! "  burst  from  uncle  and  niece  at  the 
same  time.  Constance  said  nothing;  but  her  head 
drooped  sorrowfully. 

"  That  is  impossible,  M.  Ginguet,"  said  Pelagie 
after  a  moment ;  "  some  one  has  deceived  you,  is 
making  game  of  you." 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  no  one  is  making  game  of 
me ;  it  is  only  too  true ;  when  I  was  told  such  a 
thing  as  that,  don't  you  suppose  I  should  make 
sure  that  it  was  true?  I  went  to  inquire  about  it  at 
the  house  where  M.  Edmond  is  Hving  now  (he 
lives  with  his  father  and  mother-in-law),  and  in 
fact,  he  has  been  married  to  Mademoiselle  Bringue- 
singue for  the  past  month." 

"  Why,  such  conduct  is  infamous,"  said  Pelagie. 
"  My  poor  Constance  !  to  forsake  you  like  that ! 
and  still  you  say  nothing  —  you  do  not  curse  him. 
Oh,  you  are  too  good  —  a  hundred  times  too  good. 
Oh,  these  men!  —  who  would  love  them?  But 
I  will  never  leave  you,  never  forsake  you,  dear,  I 
will  try  to  console  you  and  I  shall  never  marry, 
so  as  not  to  be  separated  from  you,  for  everything 
must  give  way  to  you  !  " 

So  saying,  Pelagie  kissed  Constance,  and  wept, 
and  hugged  her,  and  the  latter,  who  had  kept 


86       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

back  her  tears  for  a  long  time,  supported  her 
head  on  her  friend's  shoulder  and  felt  a  little 
solaced  as  she  gave  free  vent  to  her  sorrow ;  for 
although  she  had  quite  expected  this  event,  for 
which  she  herself  had  prepared  the  way,  Con- 
stance had  not  sufficient  courage  to  learn  without 
emotion  that  her  sacrifice  was  consummated,  that 
her  cousin  was  entirely  lost  to  her. 

M.  Pause  said  nothing,  but  he  was  deeply  moved, 
and  no  longer  felt  the  suffering  he  experienced  from 
his  gout.  M.  Ginguet  wept,  and  as  he  wiped  his 
eyes,  muttered  between  his  teeth, — 

"  Because  one  man  conducts  himself  ill  that  is 
no  reason  for  detesting  them  all  —  in  a  lump; 
and  then  to  vow  she  will  never  marry  !  as  if  that 
would  give  me  any  hope." 

It  was  again  Constance  who  was  obliged  to  con- 
sole everybody  ;  she  had  quelled  her  grief  and  she 
appeared  resigned  as  she  said, — 

"  But  why  are  you  all  bemoaning  me  thus  ?  I 
assure  you  I  had  long  anticipated  this  event.  I  never 
had  any  desire  but  that  my  cousin  should  be  happy, 
and  I  hope  he  will  be  so  with  the  person  he  has 
married.  With  me  he  would  perhaps  have  ex- 
perienced regrets,  weariness.  I  had  nothing  to 
offer  him  but  poverty ;  should  I  think  it  a  crime 
that  he  preferred  fortune  ?  Oh,  no,  I  swear  to  you 
I  would  not  have  had  him  do  otherwise ;  I  am  not 
unhappy,  I  have  never  been  ambitious,  and  I  have 
true  friends.     But  I  ask  you  a  favor — let  there  be 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK         87 

no  more  question  of  my  cousin;  probably,  we  shall 
not  see  him  again.  Well,  I  will  try  to  forget  him, 
and  the  past  shall  be  as  nothing  to  me." 

They  promised  Constance  to  obey  her;  they  all 
admired  the  courage  and  resignation  of  the  young 
girl ;  but  they  did  not  share  her  partiality  for 
Edmond,  whose  conduct  appeared  to  them  inex- 
cusable. Honest  M.  Pause  blamed  him,  M.  Gin- 
guet  despised  him,  and  Pelagie  reviled  him. 

However,  Edmond  was  married  and  living  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Bringuesingue  family.  In  the 
first  days,  when  he  was  as  yet  stunned  by  all  that 
had  happened  to  him  and  the  new  ties  he  had 
assumed,  he  had  paid  little  attention  to  what  was 
going  on  around  him  ;  but,  his  emotion  being 
calmed,  Edmond  began  to  reflect  and  to  criticise 
the  persons  with  whom  he  lived. 

The  examination  naturally  began  with  his  wife; 
Clodora  was  good-looking  enough  as  to  her  face, 
but  she  had  one  of  those  expressionless  physiog- 
nomies, or,  we  will  say  rather,  she  had  a  face  and 
not  a  physiognomy  ;  of  her  brilliant  education 
nothing  remained  in  her  head,  and  her  conversation 
was  very  limited.  In  the  first  days  of  their  union, 
Edmond  had  attributed  the  paucity  of  her  replies 
to  timidity  ;  but  after  six  weeks  of  marriage  she 
might  have  dared  to  talk  a  little  to  her  husband. 

One  day  Edmond,  being  alone  with  his  wife, 
wished  to  consult  her  as  to  what  use  he  should 
make  of  their  fortune. 


88       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

"My  dear  wife,"  said  he,  " your  father  has 
placed  your  dowry,  which  consists  of  some  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  at  my  disposal; 
do  you  think  we  ought  to  content  ourselves  with 
spending  the  interest  ?  or  are  you  of  the  opinion 
that  I  should  try  and  increase  our  fortune  ?  " 

Clodora  opened  her  eyes  wide,  looked  at  her 
husband  in  astonishment,  then,  fixing  her  gaze  on 
the  tips  of  her  boots,  she  answered, — 

"  Ah  —  mercy  —  I  don't  know." 

"  But  I  really  ask  your  opinion ;  as  it  is  your 
property  that  is  in  question,  I  don't  wish  to  do 
anything  without  consulting  you.  Are  you  am- 
bitious ? " 

"  Ambitious  ?  I  don't  know  —  no  one  has  ever 
spoken  of  it  to  me." 

"Are  you  satisfied  with  what  we  have?  Have 
you  formed  any  other  desires  ?  Would  you  like 
your  husband  to  become  a  stockbroker  ?  a  banker  ? 
a  notary  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  the  same  to  me." 

Edmond  tapped  his  foot  impatiently  and  bit  his 
lips  with  vexation.  The  young  woman  was  alarmed 
and  recoiled  from  him,  saying, — 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  what  makes  you 
scowl  like  that  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  me,  madame, 
absolutely  nothing." 

And  the  young  man  went  off,  heaving  a  deep 
sigh. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        89 

"  My  wife  is  most  decidedly  stupid,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

Madame  Bringuesingue  had  been  delighted  to 
seeEdmond  marry  her  daughter,  because  M.  Guer- 
val  played  contra-dances  very  well  indeed  on  the 
piano;  you  are  aware  that  dancing  was  a  passion 
with  Clodora's  mother. 

When  he  should  be  her  son-in-law,  living  in  the 
house  with  his  wife's  parents,  Madame  Bringue- 
singue flattered  herself  that  Edmond  would  play 
contra-dances  for  her  all  day  long  and  that  she  could 
begin  to  dance  immediately  after  breakfast.  In  fact 
Edmond  could  scarcely  come  into  the  drawing- 
room  in  the  morning  but  Madame  Bringuesingue 
would  say  to  him,  "  My  dear  son-in-law,  play 
a  little  contra-dance  for  my  daughter  and  I,  we'll 
dance  vis-a-vis." 

Edmond  dared  not  refuse,  and  Madame  Bringue- 
singue would  set  herself  to  advancing  and  retiring 
with  Clodora.  Edmond,  who  thought  it  singular 
to  see  his  wife  and  his  mother-in-law  dancing  thus 
in  the  morning,  would  not  play  for  long  at  a  time. 
But  when  it  happened  that  visitors  came  and  they 
could  dance  a  set  of  four,  Madame  Bringuesingue 
would  run  to  Edmond  again  and  exclaim, — 

"  Son-in-law,  play  a  quadrille,  there  are  four  of 
us.  My  daughter  and  I  have  some  squires ;  any 
tune  that  you  like  will  do  very  well." 

There  was  no  way  to  refuse ;  the  mother-in-law 
was  tenacious,  she  would  lead  Edmond  by  the  hand. 


90       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

she  would  make  him  sit  down;  and  the  latter  was 
obliged  to  play  a  contra-dance,  which  he  often  did 
ill-humoredly. 

"  Was  it  to  have  an  orchestra  continually  at  her 
orders,"  he  would  say  to  himself,  "  that  Madame 
Bringuesingue  gave  me  her  daughter?  But  if  she 
thinks  that  I  shall  pass  my  time  in  playing  for  her 
to  dance,  she  will  find  she  is  very  much  mistaken." 

As  to  M.  Bringuesingue,  he  could  not  pass  a 
single  day  away  from  his  son-in-law ;  if  he  went 
into  society,  to  a  dinner,  a  ball,  he  took  Edmond 
with  him ;  when  he  entertained,  held  a  reception, 
he  always  found  it  necessary  that  Edmond  should 
be  beside  him  ;  that  gave  confidence  and  self-as- 
surance to  the  retired  mustard-maker,  who  was 
not  afraid,  then,  to  put  in  his  word  or  venture  an 
opinion  in  conversation,  being  fully  assured  that 
with  his  son-in-law's  aid  he  should  always  be  able 
to  say  very  good  things  and  have  excellent  ideas. 

But  very  soon  it  became  dreadfully  tiresome  to 
Edmond  to  have  to  accompany  his  father-in-law 
everywhere.  Since  he  had  been  married  to  Made- 
moiselle Bringuesingue,  he  had  not  enjoyed  a 
moment's  liberty.  At  home  his  wife  and  his 
mother-in-law  were  incessantly  demanding  that  he 
should  play  dance  music  for  them,  and  if  he  wanted 
to  go  out  his  father-in-law  never  failed  to  accom- 
pany him. 

"  What  a  hole  I  have  got  myself  into,"  mused 
Edmond.     "  Surely,  it  was  my  evil  genius  which 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        91 

brought  me  into  contact  with  the  Bringuesingue 
family.  Oh,  my  cousin  !  If  I  had  married  you 
how  happy  I  should  have  been ;  for  you  were 
pretty,  you  were  gentle,  and  you  possessed  some 
mind,  three  things  that  are  rarely  found  together. 
But  you  had  ceased  to  love  me !  another  had  your 
heart.  In  truth,  if  I  had  been  your  husband  you 
would  never  have  known  him  who  stole  your  love 
from  me." 

A  year  elapsed.  At  M.  Pause's,  life  went  on 
quietly  and  uniformly ;  work,  conversation,  read- 
ing filled  all  their  time.  Constance  was  sad,  but 
resigned,  and  a  smile  sometimes  played  about  her 
pale  lips.  They  never  spoke  of  Edmond,  at  least, 
not  before  her ;  and  the  young  girl  tried  to  appear 
as  though  she  had  forgotten  him. 

M.  Pause  was  wholly  occupied  with  his  'cello, 
and  M.  Ginguet  with  Pelagic;  the  latter  continued 
to  play  a  thousand  tricks  on  the  young  clerk,  who 
had  now  been  advanced  to  twelve  hundred  francs. 

In  the  Bringuesingue  family  they  were  far  from 
enjoying  a  similar  tranquillity ;  Clodora  complained 
that  her  husband  was  ill-tempered  with  her;  the 
mother-in-law  complained  that  he  often  refused  to 
play  for  her  to  dance ;  and  the  father-in-law  also 
complained  because  lately  Edmond  had  allowed 
him  to  say  or  do  things  for  which  he  had  been 
laughed  at,  without  turning  them  into  marks  of 
wit. 

Edmond  had  never  been  in  love  with  his  wife. 


92       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

and  he  had  taken  an  aversion  to  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Bringuesingue.  To  distract  him  from 
the  dreariness  of  his  home  Hfe  the  idea  came  to 
him  to  make  speculations,  not  at  the  Bourse,  but  in 
a  small  way,  buying  property  that  seemed  cheap,  in 
the  hope  of  turning  a  little  money  by  the  sale  of  it. 

Unfortunately,  Edmond  understood  no  more 
of  business  than  he  did  of  the  fluctuations  of  stock. 
He  paid  ready  money  for  what  he  bought,  and 
sold  it  on  time  or  on  notes;  he  was  delighted  when 
he  sold  at  a  profit;  but  often  the  assets  he  received 
were  never  liquidated,  and  this  apprentice  speculator 
was  done  out  of  his  money  and  his  expenses. 
Then  he  would  go  home  in  a  very  bad  humor  and 
receive  his  mother-in-law  very  ill  when  she  came 
to  beg  him  to  play  a  contra-dance,  as  he  did  his 
father-in-law  when  he  wished  to  take  him  out  to 
spend  the  evening. 

Instead  of  giving  up  these  enterprises  in  which 
he  was  so  unsuccessful,  Edmond  persevered  in 
them  in  the  self-opinionated  way  too  many  men 
have  in  regard  to  matters  of  which  they  know  and 
understand  nothing.  His  self-respect  was  involved ; 
later  on  he  wanted  to  recover  the  money  he  had 
lost,  and  he  risked  larger  sums ;  he  gave  an  ear 
to  all  the  propositions  which  schemers  made  to 
him ;  and  in  trying  to  recoup  himself  he  managed 
to  dissipate  his  wife's  dowry;  like  those  gamblers 
who,  having  once  begun  to  lose,  never  leave  a  game 
until  their  pockets  are  quite  empty. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK 


93 


One  day  in  the  course  of  his  peregrinations, 
which  he  prolonged  as  much  as  was  possible,  so  as 
not  to  be  with  his  wife's  family,  Edmond  met 
M.  Ginguet,  who  was  just  leaving  his  office.  The 
latter  turned  away,  so  as  not  to  speak  to  Constance's 
cousin,  whose  conduct  had  seemed  to  the  young 
clerk  lacking  in  delicacy  ;  but  Edmond  ran  after 
him  and  caught  Ginguet.  He  took  him  by  the 
arm,  saying, — 

"  Why,  it's  a  long  time  since  I  saw  you.  How 
many  things  have  happened  since  then.  It  pleases 
and  pains  me  at  the  same  time  to  find  myself  again 
with  you.  But  you  looked  as  if  you  were  running 
away  from  me,  why  was  that  ?  " 

"  By  Jove,  monsieur !  "  said  Ginguet,  hesitat- 
ingly, "  it  is  because,  since  you  have  married,  and 
abandoned  your  poor  cousin  who  loved  you  so 
dearly,  I  do  not  care  to  be  counted  among  your 
friends." 

"  My  cousin  !  Ah,  M.  Ginguet,  you  are  like 
everybody  else,  you  judge  by  appearances.  Did 
I  not  tell  you  that  I  would  not  accept  any  alliance 
that  was  offered  me  ;  that  I  looked  upon  myself 
as  engaged  to  Constance  ?  " 

"  Exactly  so,  you  told  me  that  and  you  have 
acted  quite  contrary  to  what  you  said." 

"  And  what  if  my  cousin  was  the  first  to  break 
our  promises  ?  What  if  she  said  to  me,  '  You  are 
free  because  for  a  long  time  past  I  have  ceased  to 
love  you '  ?    Well,  monsieur,  that  was  just  what 


94      EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

she  did  say.  But  I  should  not  have  beUeved  it, 
even  then,  had  not  other  circumstances  proved  that 
she  was  unfaithful  to  me  ;  I  surprised  her  one  even- 
ing at  a  rendezvous." 

"  Mademoiselle  Constance  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  yes,  Constance,  and,  confused 
by  my  presence,  she  judged  it  fruitless  to  pretend 
further.  That  is  the  truth,  monsieur  ;  finding  my 
cousin  had  ceased  to  love  me  I  married  for  spite, 
in  anger  —  and  I  feel  now  that  such  marriages 
never  bring  happiness.  So  you  see,  M.  Ginguet, 
it  was  not  I  who  failed  in  keeping  my  engage- 
ment. Good-by.  You  are  more  fortunate  than 
I,  for  no  doubt  you  still  see  my  cousin,  and  despite 
the  wrong  she  has  done  me  I  feel  that  it  would 
give  me  great  pleasure  to  see  her  again.  I  could 
talk  to  her,  at  least,  and  she  would  not  always 
answer,  *  I  don't  know !'  or  *  It  is  all  the  same  to 
me ' ;  but  there,  I  mustn't  think  of  her  any  longer ; 
we  are  separated  forever." 

Edmond's  eyes  almost  filled  with  tears  as  he  pro- 
nounced these  words  ;  wishing  to  hide  his  emotion, 
he  squeezed  Ginguet's  hand  and  departed.  The 
young  clerk  remained  there  quite  stupefied  by  what 
he  had  heard  ;  and  as  his  face  always  expressed  all 
that  he  felt,  when  he  went  that  evening,  as  usual,  to 
M.  Pause's,  Pelagie  easily  saw  that  something  new 
had  happened.  The  young  man  kept  silent  before 
Constance ;  he  made  signs  to  the  young  girl  with 
his  eyes,  she  could  not  understand  what  he  meant 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        95 

but  It  increased  her  curiosity.  Constance  noticed 
some  of  these  signs,  Ginguet's  uneasiness  had  struck 
her  also.  Guessing  that  he  could  not  explain  him- 
self before  her,  she  made  a  pretext  of  needing  an 
embroidery  design  which  was  in  her  bedroom  and 
left  Ginguet  with  Pelagie ;  immediately  the  latter 
demanded  of  him  what  he  had  learned  that  was 
new  and  why  Constance  should  not  hear  it. 

"  What  have  I  learned  ?  "  said  Ginguet  rolling 
up  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling.  "  Ah,  mademoiselle, 
such  things !  I  haven't  got  over  it  yet,  by  Jove ! 
Who  would  have  suspected  it?  a  young  person  so 
well  brought  up  !  " 

"  Please,  please  !  explain  yourself  more  clearly." 

After  gazing  upward  again  and  striking  his  hands 
one  in  the  other,  M.  Ginguet  decided  to  tell  Pela- 
gic of  his  meeting  Edmond  and  all  that  the  latter 
had  said  to  him  concerning  Constance. 

As  the  young  man  proceeded,  Pelagie  became 
more  greatly  agitated  ;  he  saw  that  she  could  hardly 
contain  herself.  She  listened  attentively,  however, 
for  she  did  not  wish  to  lose  a  single  word  ;  but  her 
reddened  cheeks,  the  fire  in  her  eyes,  her  labored 
breathing  expressed  all  the  indignation  she  felt. 

"  How  dreadful  1 "  said  Pelagie  when  M.  Gin- 
guet had  done  speaking,  "  what  a  shameful  cal- 
umny. It  was  not  enough,  then,  that  he  should 
lightly  abandon  her  who  had  sacrificed  all  for  him, 
but  he  must  defame  her,  dishonor  her  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  my  Constance,  my  good,  my  sweet 


96       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

Constance,  the  model  of  all  the  virtues,  whose  heart 
never  knew  any  but  noble  and  generous  sen- 
timents, it  is  Constance  that  he  dares  to  accuse. 
And  you,  monsieur,  you  could  stand  in  cold  blood 
to  hear  such  atrocious  calumnies,  you  did  not  de- 
fend my  darling  ?  did  not  make  him  retract  all  that 
he  told  you  ?  " 

Ginguet  was  all  of  a  tremble,  for  never  had  he 
seen  Pelagie  so  angry  before. 

"  Mademoiselle  —  I  could  not,"  he  stammered. 
"  I  did  not  know." 

"  You  could  not  defend  Constance,  my  dearest 
friend  ?  You  are  a  man,  and  you  allow  a  woman 
to  be  traduced  ?  Listen,  M.  Ginguet,  I  have  but 
one  thing  to  say  to  you,  you  assert  that  you  love 
me,  that  you  wish  to  marry  me  ? " 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  that  would  be  the  height 
of  felicity  for  me." 

"  Well,  then,  go  and  find  Constance's  cousin, 
make  him  confess  that  what  he  told  you  about  his 
cousin  were  lying  calumnies  ;  make  him  contradict 
them  in  writing  and  bring  the  paper  to  me ;  or 
force  him  to  fight  with  you  and  kill  him  to  punish 
him  for  his  unworthy  lies.  You  hear  me,  mon- 
sieur! bring  back  Edmond's  retraction;  or,  failing 
that,  come  when  you  have  vanquished  him  and  I 
will  give  you  my  hand." 

"What,  mademoiselle,  you  want  —  " 

"  That  you  should  challenge  and  fight  Edmond  ? 
Yes,  monsieur.     If  you  do  not  do  what  I  ask  of 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        97 

you  it  is  useless  for  you  to  think  of  paying  further 
court  to  me  —  I  will  never  be  your  wife.  Well, 
monsieur,  do  you  hesitate  ? " 

"  No,  mademoiselle ;  no,  I  do  not  hesitate.  I 
will  fight,  most  certainly,  although  I  do  not  know 
how  to  fight  a  duel.  But  what  if  I  am  killed, 
mademoiselle? " 

"  Then  Edmond  would  be  still  more  despicable, 
but  you  who  will  have  died  in  upholding  a  noble 
cause,  you  who  will  have  sacrificed  yourself  for  my 
friend  —  you  will  have  all  my  regrets,  you  will 
dwell  in  my  memory,  and  every  day  I  will  go  to 
your  grave  and  weep  and  put  flowers  on  it." 

"Ah,  I  understand ;  you  will  be  very  fond  of  me 
—  when  I  am  dead  !  Come,  that  is  still  a  conso- 
lation. It  is  decided,  mademoiselle;  tomorrow  I 
will  fight  with  M.  Edmond." 

"  But  be  careful,  not  a  word  of  all  this  before 
Constance." 

"  I  will  not  open  my  mouth  about  it  again, 
mademoiselle." 

At  this  moment  Constance  returned.  Suspect- 
ing that  the  matter  concerned  Edmond,  she  had 
been  unable  to  resist  her  curiosity,  and  she  had  lis- 
tened to  and  heard  all  the  conversation  between 
Pelagic  and  M.  Ginguet.  However,  she  looked 
as  if  she  knew  nothing  and  all  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing she  pretended  to  feel  very  tranquil.  Pelagic,  on 
the  contrary,  gave  way  from  time  to  time  to  exclam- 
ations of  anger  and  impatience,  and  M,  Ginguet 

Vol.  XX 


98       EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

heaved  great  sighs,  which  indicated  that  he  was  not 
highly  pleased  with  what  he  was  going  to  do  upon 
the  following  day. 

As  they  parted,  Constance  shook  hands  with  the 
young  clerk  in  friendly  fashion ;  the  latter  said 
good-by,  as  though  he  were  afraid  of  never  seeing 
them  again,  although  Pelagie  did  her  best,  by 
glances,  to  keep  up  his  courage. 

The  next  day,  early  in  the  morning,  Ginguet  got 
ready  to  seek  for  Edmond  at  his  home  ;  he  talked 
to  himself  as  he  did  so  and  exhorted  himself  to  be 
brave;  when  he  felt  himself  weakening,  he  thought 
of  Pelagie  and  then  his  love  gave  him  courage,  one 
feeling  is  nearly  always  the  auxiliary  of  the  other. 

At  the  moment  when  he  was  leaving  his  rooms, 
holding  in  his  hand  a  case  of  pistols  which  he  had 
borrowed  from  a  neighbor,  Ginguet  was  stopped 
by  his  porter,  who  gave  him  a  letter.  The  young 
man  opened  it  and  read, — 

I  overheard  your  conversation  w^ith  Pelagie  yesterday  ;  you 
must  not  fight  a  duel  for  me,  M.  Ginguet ;  Edmond  has  not 
calumniated  me,  he  has  told  you  nothing  but  the  truth.  Good- 
by  ;  tell  Pelagie  and  her  uncle  that  I  shall  always  love  them, 
but  I  must  leave  them  ;  for  vs^hen  they  know^  all,  they  w^ill  not 
think  me  worthy  to  live  with  them. 

Constance. 

Ginguet,  as  he  finished  this  letter,  let  his  box  of 
pistols  fall  to  the  ground ;  he  read  it  again,  to 
assure  himself  that  he  was  not  mistaken,  then  he 
hurried  to  carry  back  to  his  neighbor  the  weapons 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        99 

he  had  borrowed,  and  ran  to  Pelagie,  who  was  with 
her  uncle ;  first  of  all,  he  asked  them  where  Con- 
stance was. 

"  She  went  out  very  early  this  morning,"  said 
M.  Pause,  "no  doubt  to  carry  back  her  work  to 
the  lingerie  shop ;  but  she  has  not  returned  yet." 

Then  Ginguet  gave  Pelagie  the  letter  he  had 
received.  The  latter  wept  disconsolately  and  told 
her  uncle  all  that  had  passed  the  evening  before. 
M.  Pause  blamed  his  niece's  conduct  in  wishing  to 
force  Ginguet  to  fight,  but  he  could  not  yet  be- 
lieve that  Constance  was  guilty. 

"  No,  no ;  she  is  not !  "  cried  Pelagie,  "  and  the 
letter  in  which  she  accuses  herself  only  proves  to 
me  that  she  feared  a  combat  would  take  place,  and 
that  her  cousin  might  fall ;  for  she  loves  him  still, 
she  has  never  ceased  to  desire  his  happiness,  I  am 
quite  sure  of  it.  But  where  has  she  gone?  M.  Gin- 
guet, you  positively  must  find  Constance  ;  I  warn 
you  that  you  will  not  be  my  husband  until  you 
have  restored  my  unfortunate  friend  to  me." 

"  But,  mademoiselle,  am  I  to  blame  that  Con- 
stance has  left  you  ?  " 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  monsieur. 
I  can  only  be  happy  when  she  is  near  me,  and  as  I 
wish  to  be  happy,  in  order  to  marry,  the  matter  is 
quite  settled." 

Poor  Ginguet  went  out,  saying, — 

"  I  shall  have  a  good  deal  of  trouble  before  I 
become  Mademoiselle  Pelagie's  husband." 


loo    EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

However,  during  the  day  he  begun  his  search. 
Every  moment  of  time  that  his  office  duties  left 
free  to  him  he  employed  in  running  about  the  vari- 
ous neighborhoods  to  try  and  discover  Constance, 
but  he  learned  nothing,  and  as  he  returned  to 
Pelagie,  unable  to  give  her  any  news  of  her  dar- 
ling, the  young  girl  made  a  very  wry  face  at  him. 

While  this  was  going  on,  other  events  were  tak- 
ing place  in  the  Bringuesingue  family. 

The  father-in-law  continually  wanted  his  son-in- 
law  to  accompany  him  into  society ;  but  one  day 
Edmond  had  been  the  first  to  make  fun  of  some 
breach  of  manners  by  M.  Bringuesingue.  The 
latter  had  committed  several  solecisms  which  would 
have  passed  unobserved  had  not  his  son-in-law 
called  attention  to  them.  A  violent  quarrel  had 
followed. 

"  I  gave  my  daughter  to  you  that  you  might 
supply  me  with  wit,"  said  M.  Bringuesingue.  "  I 
sent  Comtois  away  because  of  you,  and  he  was  at 
least  willing  to  rub  his  nose  when  I  committed  any 
blunder ;  but  you  take  upon  yourself  to  laugh 
when- 1  get  involved  in  a  phrase  ;  things  cannot  go 
on  like  this." 

"  You  are  never  willing  to  sit  down  to  the  piano 
when  I  wish  to  dance,"  said  Madame  Bringue- 
singue, "or  else  you  play  so  fast  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  go  in  time  and  one  is  tired  at  once.  That's 
not  the  way  to  behave  with  your  mother-in-law." 

"  You  never  want  to  take  me  out  walking,"  said 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      loi 

Clodora  In  her  turn,  "and  you  know  I  am  very  fond 
of  walking." 

To  all  this  Edmond  had  answered, — 

"  My  dear  father-in-law,  when  you  offered  your 
daughter  to  me  in  marriage  you  should  have  in- 
formed me  that  I  was  to  be  your  mentor  also.  But 
it  is  too  late  to  repair  your  education  ;  believe  me 
and  do  not  seek  to  imitate  great  noblemen,  you 
will  only  succeed  in  making  people  laugh  at  you. 
My  dear  mother-in-law,  I  do  not  blame  you  for 
liking  to  dance,  but  I  cannot  pass  my  life  in  serv- 
ing as  your  orchestra.  As  to  you,  madame,  if 
I  don't  take  you  walking  more  often  it  is  because 
you  are  continually  yawning  when  I  speak  to  you  ; 
from  which  I  conclude  that  neither  my  company 
nor  my  conversation  is  pleasing  to  you." 

Edmond's  answer  did  not  calm  their  minds ; 
and  it  grew  worse  when  they  were  assailed  on  all 
sides  by  men  to  whom  Edmond  owed  money. 
When  they  learned  that  he  had  dissipated  nearly 
all  his  wife's  dowry,  Clodora  wept,  her  mother 
fainted,  and  M.  Bringuesingue  wanted  to  put  his 
son-in-law  in  prison  until  he  had  restored  the  sum 
which  he  had  so  lightly  spent ;  but  as  the  father- 
in-law  could  not  do  this,  he  contented  himself  with 
ordering  Edmond  out  of  the  house  and  telling 
him  never  to  come  back  to  it  so  long  as  he  was 
poor,  and  to  no  longer  consider  Clodora  as  his 
wife. 

Edmond  had  the  right  to  take  his  wife  away 


I02     EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

with  him,  but  he  was  not  tempted  to  insist  on  it ; 
he  left  Clodora  with  her  parents,  and  departed  from 
the  Bringuesingue  family,  having  but  one  regret  — 
that  he  was  no  longer  a  bachelor. 

Edmond  established  himself  in  a  little  attic  room, 
and  there  set  to  work  making  pictures  which  were 
of  hardly  more  artistic  value  than  chimney  boards, 
but  he  found  a  sale  for  them  and  lived  by  means 
of  them  ;  for,  disgusted  with  pleasure,  caring  no 
longer  for  society,  and  having  no  friends,  Edmond 
hardly  left  his  room,  and  passed  all  his  time  in 
working.  He  was  astonished  at  the  pleasure  he 
felt  in  this  new  kind  of  life  ;  he  was  quite  surprised 
that  he  should  be  happy  while  so  assiduously  busy. 

"  If  I  had  not  formerly  refused  M.  Pause's 
offers,"  he  said,  "  I  feel  that  I  might  have  still 
been  happy  beside  Constance ;  with  work  and 
order  and  economy  we  need  not  have  known  pov- 
erty. My  self-conceit  has  been  my  undoing!  I 
refused  the  happiness  that  was  near  me  and  passed 
my  life  in  doing  foolish  things,  because  I  always 
thought  I  knew  better  than  other  people.  I  have 
consumed  the  property  my  mother  left  me,  I  have 
ruined  my  cousin,  I  have  dissipated  my  wife's  for- 
tune, because  I  believed  myself  a  poet,  a  musician, 
a  speculator,  and  with  no  vocation  for  any  of  those 
things,  inspired  only  by  the  same  idea  which,  when 
I  was  young,  made  me  say  to  my  comrades  at 
school :  *  Oh,  if  I  like,  I  can  do  so-and-so  as  well 
as  you.'  '* 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       103 

These  reflections  were  rather  tardy,  but  it  is 
always  a  merit  to  recognize  one's  faults.  There 
are  so  many  people  whom  experience  does  not 
teach. 

Edmond  had  been  painting  his  little  pictures 
for  nearly  a  year  when  he  received  a  letter  from 
M.  Bringuesingue  announcing  that  his  daughter 
Clodora  had  died  from  eating  too  much  nougat; 
but  that  before  she  died  she  had  thought  of  her 
husband,  and  had  exacted  a  promise  from  her 
parents  that  they  would  make  Edmond  their  heir. 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Bringuesingue  had  sworn 
to  their  daughter  that  they  would  gratify  her  desires 
on  condition  that  their  son-in-law  should  ask  noth- 
ing of  them  as  long  as  they  lived. 

Edmond  answered  M.  Bringuesingue  that  he 
was  touched  by  the  last  remembrance  of  his  wife, 
and  begged  him  to  dispose  of  his  fortune  as  he 
pleased.  Edmond  was  really  becoming  an  artist ; 
he  no  longer  counted  on  riches  as  happiness  ;  he 
had  acquired  a  taste  for  work,  what  he  did  was 
better,  and  he  got  more  pay.  After  a  time  he  did 
really  well,  and  there  was  a  demand  for  his  pictures ; 
then  he  left  his  attic  room  and  took  a  small  apart- 
ment in  which  he  had  a  studio. 

Edmond  had  only  lived  in  his  new  lodging 
— ^  where  he  kept  very  much  to  himself — for  three 
months  when  one  evening  an  old  woman  came 
and  knocked  at  his  door.  She  was  a  neighbor 
who  lived  on  the  floor  above  Edmond,  but  the 


I04     EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

latter  was  totally  unacquainted  with  the  persons 
who  lived  in  the  same  house  as  himself. 

The  good  woman  was  in  tears ;  she  said  to  the 
young  man, — 

"  Please,  monsieur,  be  kind  enough  to  come  and 
help  me  care  for  a  young  woman  who  is  very  ill, 
—  she  lives  above  here  on  the  same  landing  as 
myself.  She  lives  alone,  seldom  goes  out,  works 
all  day ;  she  sees  nobody  but  me,  and  she  has 
obliged  me  in  a  thousand  ways ;  but  the  day  before 
yesterday  she  fell  ill,  and  to-day  she  is  in  a  terrible 
fever — delirious.  I  don't  know  what  to  give  her, 
and  I  don't  like  to  leave  her  alone  while  I  go  for 
the  doctor." 

Edmond  immediately  followed  the  old  neighbor; 
she  led  him  to  the  invalid's  room,  where  every- 
thing was  very  simple  and  modest,  but  neat  and 
well-arranged.  The  young  man,  without  under- 
standing the  reason,  felt  greatly  moved  as  he 
approached  the  young  woman's  bed ;  but  was 
completely  overwhelmed  when  he  saw  that  the 
sick  woman  he  had  come  to  aid  was  his  cousin. 

"  Constance !  "  cried  Edmond. 

"  You  know  this  young  lady,"  said  the  neighbor. 

"  Know  her  ?  she  is  my  cousin  ;  used  to  be  my 
companion,  and  was  for  a  long  time  my  best  friend. 
Constance !  poor  Constance !  but  she  doesn't  hear 
me  or  recognize  me.  Madame,  go  and  get  a  doc- 
tor quickly.  1  shall  establish  myself  here,  for  I 
shan't  leave  my  cousin  till  she  is  out  of  danger." 


!0 


X 


as  in  tear? ;  she  s«ud  to  the 


nd  way: 


id  was 


He  knelt  beside  Constance's  bed. 
Photogravure  from  Original  Drawing  bv  William  Glackens. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      105 

The  old  woman  left ;  he  remained  alone  beside 
Constance,  who  was  violently  delirious,  and  who 
often  pronounced  Edmond's  name.  The  latter 
listened  attentively  to  the  invalid's  ravings  and 
presently  he  distinguished  these  words, — 

"He  thought  me  guilty —  Great  God!  he 
thought  I  loved  another  than  he.  Why  it  was 
that  he  might  be  free.  That  letter  —  that  note. 
It  was  I  who  dictated  it.  I  have  a  copy  of  it  there 
in  the  memorandum  book  he  gave  me.  It  is  all 
that  I  received  from  him,  and  I  wrote  it  there ;  I 
did  it  so  he  would  be  happy." 

So  saying  the  invalid  pointed  with  her  finger  to  a 
little  box  that  was  on  the  commode.  Edmond, 
who  for  the  first  time  had  the  thought  that  his 
cousin  had  said  she  was  guilty  that  she  might  re- 
store his  liberty,  felt  the  tears  moisten  his  eyes  at 
the  idea  of  such  devotion;  he  ran  to  the  box, 
opened  it,  found  there  a  memorandum  book  he 
had  formerly  given  his  cousin,  and  in  one  of  the 
pockets  the  draft  of  a  letter  in  his  cousin's  hand- 
writing. He  read  it.  It  was  the  original  of  the 
letter  he  had  received  in  which  the  writer  offered 
to  prove  to  him  that  Constance  did  not  love  him. 

Edmond  understood  all  his  cousin's  generosity, 
and  that  she,  after  giving  him  her  fortune,  had 
sacrificed  to  him  also  that  which  is  the  first  with  a 
woman  —  her  honor  and  her  reputation.  He 
knelt  beside  Constance's  bed ;  he  took  her  hand 
and  bathed  it  with  tears,  asking  her  to  pardon  him 


io6     EDMOND  AND  HIS  COUSIN 

for  having  thought  her  guilty,  and  cursing  himself 
for  having  brought  misfortune  upon  a  woman  who 
had  so  well  deserved  all  his  love.  But  Constance 
did  not  hear;  her  delirium  was  unabated,  and  her 
state  increased  Edmond's  regrets  and  despair. 

The  old  neighbor  brought  a  doctor,  who  declared 
that  he  could  not  answer  for  the  invalid's  recovery 
and  departed  after  writing  his  prescriptions. 

Constance  passed  a  cruel  night ;  Edmond  did 
not  close  an  eye,  but  the  neighbor  could  not  resist 
her  weariness,  she  slept  soundly. 

But  a  remembrance  struck  him,  and,  as  soon  as 
it  was  daylight  and  the  neighbor  had  awakened, 
Edmond  went  out  and  ran  without  stopping  to 
M.  Pause's ;  there  he  told  all  that  had  happened, 
all  that  he  knew  of  his  cousin's  beautiful  devotion, 
and  he  had  not  finished  his  story  when  Pelagic, 
who  had  listened  attentively,  hastened  to  put  on 
her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  said  to  him, — 

"  Take  me  to  her.  Ah,  I  knew  her  better  than 
you  and  I  did  not  for  a  moment  believe  her  guilty." 

Nine  days  later  Constance,  who  was  still  deliri- 
ous, struggling  incessantly  between  life  and  death, 
experienced  a  salutary  crisis.  Deep  slumber  had 
supervened,  and  this  had  been  followed  by  a  light 
sleep,  restful  and  restorative  ;  and  when  Constance 
again  opened  her  eyes  she  smiled  as  one  who  has 
already  forgotten  her  sufferings.  But  imagine  her 
surprise  at  seeing  Pelagic,  good  M.  Pause,  her 
cousin,  and  even  M.  Ginguet  grouped  around  her. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       107 

"Is  it  a  dream  ?  "  said  Constance  shutting  her 
eyes  for  fear  of  seeing  an  illusion  melt  away. 

"  No,"  Edmond  answered  pressing  her  hand 
softly  ;  "  the  past  alone  is  a  dream,  but  you  will 
forget  it,  cousin  ;  you  have  already  been  so  gener- 
ous to  me  that  I  am  sure  you  will  continue  so  still. 
I  know  your  devotion,  and  Heaven  has  rendered 
me  free  to  entirely  repair  the  wrong  I  have  done. 
Once  more,  Constance,  the  past  is  but  a  dream, 
and  it  is  your  affianced  husband  who  is  beside  you 
now,  as  on  the  day  when  our  two  mothers  united 
our  hands  and  our  future." 

Constance  could  not  answer,  she  was  shedding 
tears  of  happiness,  and  although  the  doctors  for- 
bid anything  of  an  emotional  nature  for  convales- 
cents, in  this  case  it  hastened  the  invalid's  cure. 

Then  Edmond  married  his  cousin,  then  M.Gin- 
guet  looked  at  Pelagic,  sighing,  and  said  to  her, — 

"  It  is  not  my  fault  if  some  one  else  found  your 
friend ;  I  walked  two  or  three  leagues  in  Paris 
every  day  to  look  for  her." 

Pelagie's  only  answer  was  to  place  her  hand  in 
Ginguet's  ;  and  in  truth  the  poor  bachelor  had  well 
earned  it.  I  do  not  affirm  that  Pelagic  always  fol- 
lowed her  husband's  wishes  ;  but  I  can  certify  that 
M.  Ginguet  never  had  any  will  but  that  of  his  wife. 


PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

Petit-Trick  was  a  true  child  of  Brittany,  that 
is  to  say,  he  was  hot-headed,  possessed  a  Hvely 
determination  anci  a  quick  wit,  and  his  speech  was 
sometimes  rather  blunt;  he  was  courageous  and 
faithful  withal,  for  that  country  has  produced  more 
men  of  noble  qualities  than  I  could  cite  here. 

And,  in  speaking  of  fidelity,  we  do  not  intend 
here  to  speak  of  love  and  of  those  delightful  vows 
that  are  made  between  two  lovers,  but  rather  of 
that  admirable  devotion  which  consists  in  a  man's 
cleaving  to  his  friends  in  misfortune,  his  masters 
in  exile,  his  princes  in  adversity. 

But  every  medal  has  its  reverse  side,  as  you  very 
well  know ;  besides,  there  is  nothing  perfect  in 
nature.  So  there  is  nothing  strange  in  the  fact  that 
Petit-Trick  also  had  his  weak  side,  since  we  all 
have  ours ;  it  is  certain  even  that  there  are  some 
people  who  have  no  good  side. 

The  weak  point  in  Trick  was  vanity ;  he  had 
immense  confidence  in  himself  and  was  assured 
that  no  one  could  deceive  him. 

Poor  fellow  !  what  an  error !  what  an  insane  delu- 
sion !  Men  of  the  greatest  minds,  geniuses  even, 
have  been  abused  and  duped  ere  now. 

io8 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       109 

It  is  the  fate  of  poor  humankind  to  be  deceived  ; 
and  some  people  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  we  should 
be  very  unhappy  if  we  were  not. 

But  as  Petit-Trick  was  only  fifteen  years  old, 
and  was  a  Breton,  we  must  therefore  excuse  the 
great  confidence  he  possessed  as  to  his  own  saga- 
city. We  see  in  the  world  every  day  people  whom 
age  and  experience  have  not  rendered  so  rational ; 
if  youth  were  possessed  of  wisdom  at  the  start  how 
much  of  it  would  remain  in  old  age  ? 

Petit-Trick  was  desirous  of  going  to  Paris  to  try 
to  make  his  fortune.  This  was  a  very  natural  wish, 
which  almost  invariably  arises  in  the  minds  of  those 
persons  who  have  not  been  favored  by  fate  ;  and  a 
great  many  rich  people  conduct  themselves  in  this 
respect  precisely  like  their  poorer  fellows. 

Jean-Jacques  said,  "It  is  essential  to  be  happy, 
dear  Emile  ;  that  is  the  first  need  of  man." 

But  in  our  day  they  vary  this  phrase  of  Rous- 
seau's, and  they  say,  "  It  is  essential  to  be  rich." 
For  they  think  that  without  money  there  is  no 
means  of  being  happy. 

Let  us  return  to  Petit-Trick.  His  parents  had 
been  in  business,  but  they  had  not  amassed  money  ; 
what  is  more,  they  had  often  been  the  dupes  of 
schemers  and  rascals.  The  youth  said  to  him- 
self,— 

"  I  shall  be  shrewder  than  they,  or  luckier ;  I 
shan't  allow  myself  to  be  deceived  by  anybody,  and 
I  shall  make  my  way  rapidly  in  Paris." 


no     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

An  old  uncle,  the  only  relation  who  remained 
to  Trick,  consented  to  send  him  to  the  capital  of 
France  and  managed  to  obtain  a  situation  for  him 
as  shop  boy  in  a  kind  of  bric-a-brac  shop. 

They  gave  the  young  man  his  lodging  and 
board,  which  was  very  frugal,  and  twenty  sous  a 
week,  not  inclusive  of  the  profits ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  small  sums  he  received  for  beer  money  from 
the  customers  to  whom  he  carried  goods.  The 
situation  was  a  modest  one,  but  Petit-Trick  thought 
it  magnificent.  He  thanked  his  uncle,  packed  his 
effects  in  a  carpet  bag  and  climbed  on  to  the  roof 
of  a  coach  where  a  seat  had  been  kept  for  him. 

Trick'slively,  roguish,  open  countenance  seemed 
to  make  a  very  agreeable  impression  on  a  traveller 
who  was  seated  beside  him.  This  traveller  was 
not  at  all  like  the  young  Breton,  his  shifty  face, 
his  small,  evil  eyes  did  not  indicate  stupidity,  but 
they  did  not  inspire  confidence ;  in  fact,  the  smile 
on  his  thin  lips  was  sarcastic  and  perfidious.  Believe 
me, you  should  mistrust  thin  lips —  but  don't  place 
great  confidence  in  any  others. 

Petit-Trick,  nevertheless,  told  all  his  business 
to  his  companion  on  the  coach,  and  the  latter  an- 
swered this  recital  by  giving  what  seemed  to  be 
very  sincere  advice. 

"  Young  man,"  said  he,  "you  are  going  to  Paris, 
be  on  your  guard.  In  great  capitals  there  are  al- 
ways a  good  many  thieves,  and  Paris  does  not  lack 
them.    In  an  immense  city,  where  so  many  people 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      iir 

wake  up  without  knowing  how  they  are  going  to 
get  food  for  the  day,  you  can  comprehend  that 
many  robberies,  swindles,  and  pickpocketings  are 
committed.  The  capitals  most  renowned  for  their 
beauty  and  the  privileges  and  pleasures  which  they 
afford  have  the  gloomy  privilege  also  of  attracting 
within  their  precincts  the  most  skilful  swindlers ; 
wherever  there  is  a  crowd  you  may  be  sure  there 
are  thieves  ;  it  is  a  sad  truth,  but  it  is  a  truth. 

**  Be  on  your  guard  against  all  the  tricks  they  may 
try  to  play  on  you.  I  am  not  speaking  of  robberies 
with  weapons  or  by  means  of  ladders  or  breaking 
in,  those  are  among  the  category  of  vulgar  crimes 
and  are  common  all  over  the  country,  but  there 
are  robberies  in  Paris  against  which  it  is  necessary 
to  be  furnished  with  prudence." 

Petit-Trick  listened  smilingly  to  his  companion, 
exclaiming  from  time  to  time, — 

"  Oh,  monsieur,  there  is  no  danger.  I  shall  not 
let  myself  be  caught.  I  bet  I  should  recognize 
a  thief  a  mile  away." 

"Ah,  so  you  think,  my  young  friend;  that  Is 
a  confidence  that  may  be  fatal  to  you.  But  let  us 
see,  since  you  are  so  certain  of  being  on  your  guard 
against  thieves,  do  you  know  what  a  *vol  au  bon- 
jour''  is  ?  an  American  confidence  thief?  Do  you 
know  what  a  *  vol  au  pot '  is  ?  " 

Little  Trick  opened  his  eyes  wide,  then  he  shook 
his  head,  exclaiming, — 

*A  lodging-house  thief. 


112     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

"  Bah,  that's  foolish  talk,  that  is,  the  kind  of 
thing  they  tell  children  to  frighten  them." 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  frighten  you,  my  young 
friend,  I  only  wish  to  enlighten  your  inexperience. 
Listen  to  me;  among  the  thieves  that  frequent 
Paris  the  first  to  be  mentioned  is  the  one  called 
*au  bonjour.*  I  will  explain  to  you  what  that 
means,  for  it  may  serve  you  on  occasion.  In  the 
morning  in  Paris  in  a  house  where  there  are  often 
a  great  number  of  tenants,  the  porter  chats  with  a 
maid  or  a  neighbor  or  he  goes  across  the  street  to 
get  his  milk  from  the  milkwoman,  or  he  sweeps  the 
back  of  his  courtyard  or  feeds  his  magpie  (in  Paris 
porters  nearly  always  keep  a  magpie  or  a  paro- 
quet, or  a  dog,  or  three  cats) ;  in  short,  they  are  so 
very  busy  in  the  mornings  that  they  do  not  pay 
much  attention  to  the  people  who  come  into  the 
house. 

"  A  *  worker  *  goes  into  the  house  and  very  lightly 
ascends  the  stairs,  looking  at  all  the  doors,  and  it 
is  rarely  that  he  does  not  see  one  with  the  key  left 
in  it;  for  some  bachelor  who  has  been  up  late  says 
to  his  porter,  *  Here's  my  key,  give  it  to-morrow  to 
my  charwoman;  I  don't  want  to  get  up  to  let  her 
in  to  her  work.'  In  the  morning  the  charwoman 
goes  up,  but  when  she  goes  down  to  get  the  coffee 
and  rolls  and  milk  she  invariably  leaves  the  key  in 
the  lock,  very  often  the  maids  do  the  same,  or  it  is 
the  porter  who  takes  up  the  newspaper  and  forgets 
the  key  in  the  door,  or  more  often  still  it  is  the 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       113 

tenant  himself  who  says,  *  Leave  my  key  on  the 
outside,  so  that  I  may  not  have  to  disturb  myself 
if  any  one  comes  to  see  me.'  " 

Petit-Trick  shouted  with  laughter  as  he  said, — 
"  Oh,  I  shan't  be  as  stupid  as  all  that,  I  shan't." 
"  You  think  so  !  At  length  the  *  worker '  sees  a 
key  ;  he  opens  the  door  very  gently  and  goes  into 
the  room.  A  gentleman  is  lying  on  his  bed,  snor- 
ing in  perfect  security.  Perhaps  he  is  dreaming  of 
a  gold  mine  or  that  he  has  inherited  a  relative's 
millions,  or  he  has  become  a  sub-prefect  or  some 
one  has  sent  him  a  box  of  jams  from  Bar. 

"  While  he  is  enjoying  such  sweet  dreams  the 

*  worker'  lightly  picks  up  a  watch  and  seizes  some 
money  that  is  in  a  desk  and  departs,  taking  every 
possible  precaution  not  to  awaken  the  sleeper, 
boldly  leaves  the  house,  and  passes  the  porter's 
lodge  humming  one  of  Rossini's  arias." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  let  myself  be  robbed  like  that," 
said  Trick, "  I'm  sure  I'm  too  wide  awake  for  that ; 
I  sleep  so  lightly  that  I  can  hear  the  scampering 
of  a  mouse." 

"  Really  ?  my  dear  fellow  ;  I  must  congratulate 
you  on  the  possession  of  such  a  faculty  as  that. 
But  suppose  after  going  in  at  a  door  the  thief 
should  come  in  contact  with  some  one  who  is  very 
wide  awake,  do  you  think  he  is  taken? —  not  at  all. 

*  Who's  there  ? '  asks  the  person  who  has  heard 
his  door  open,  or  who  sees  some  one  unknown  to 
him  come  in.     The  thief  pretends  to  be  surprised 

VoUXX 


114     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

and  says,  *  Pardon  me,  but  I  want  M.SchicofF,  den- 
tist.' '  Don't  know  him.  There  isn't  a  dentist  in  the 
house.'  *Oh,a  thousand  pardons, monsieur;  I  must 
have  mistaken  the  number.  Sorry  to  have  dis- 
turbed you.'  And  the  robber  disappears  like  Hght- 
ning,  while  the  tenant  of  the  apartment  racks  his 
memory  as  to  whether  he  has  dentists  for  neighbors 
and  says,*SchicofF — that's  a  Russian  name,  it  seems 
that  Russia  furnishes  us  with  dentists  also.' " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Trick  after  listening  to  his 
companion,  "  I  should  see  at  once  by  a  person's 
face  whether  or  no  he  was  a  thief;  then  I  should 
jump  on  him  and  I  should  stop  him.  Oh,  I'm 
not  a  coward,  I  ain't." 

"  Devil  take  it ! "  said  the  traveller  fixing  his 
little  evil  eyes  on  the  youth,  "do  you  suppose  you 
could  recognize  a  thief  by  merely  looking  at  him  ? " 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Hang  it,  what  a  fine  fellow  you  are!  Come, 
I'm  very  pleased  to  know  one  who  is  so  sharp  as 
you  are.  All  the  same,  I've  never  taught  you  what 
*  robbery  au  bonjour'  is,  and  I  should  like  to  tell 
you  what  *  robbery  a  I'Americaine'  is,  for  it's  very 
prevalent  in  Paris  now,  the  surprising  thing  being 
that  they  can  find  dupes  there." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  worth  while  troubling  yourself, 
monsieur." 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is  then  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"Then  let  me  tell  you.     The  thief  walks  quietly 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      115 

about  Paris  like  a  simple  idler ;  he  watches  a  man 
carrying  a  bag  of  money,  for  which  purpose  he 
stations  himself  in  the  vicinity  of  the  treasury  or 
the  bank ;  in  these  neighborhoods  men  carrying 
money  are  as  common  as  the  omnibuses.  The 
thief  sees  one,  he  accosts  him,  pretending  to  be  a 
foreigner  and  to  be  in  need  of  changing  some  gold 
into  silver.  A  confederate  passes  who  pretends  to 
want  to  seize  the  occasion  to  do  some  good  busi- 
ness ;  for  his  part  the  man  who  carries  the  bag  of 
money  does  not  wish  to  let  this  piece  of  luck  escape 
him.  They  go  into  a  wine  shop.  The  pretended 
foreigner,  who  speaks  ajargon  of  several  languages, 
counts  out  his  gold  against  the  silver;  the  confeder- 
ate pretends  to  go  out  and  look  for  some  more  crown 
pieces  and  does  not  come  back.  The  foreigner  as- 
serts that  he  has  carried  oiF  a  piece  of  gold  and 
rushes  after  him.  The  gentlemen  do  not  come 
back.  The  man  with  the  bag  pays  for  what  they 
have  had  and  goes  to  a  money-changer  to  sell  his 
gold.  Arrived  there,  he  perceives  that  they  have 
robbed  him  of  his  rolls  of  good  coin,  and  that  noth- 
ing remains  in  his  bag  but  lead  pipe  or  sous." 

"Good  heavens,  monsieur,  all  these  people  allow 
themselves  to  be  caught  too  easily ;  they  have  no 
business  to  be  such  simpletons." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  tell  you  of  other  kinds  of 
robbery  that  are  rife  in  Paris  ?  " 

"  It  is  needless,  monsieur,  you  have  told  me 
quite  enough.      Besides,  I  have  an  idea  that  the 


ii6     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

thieves  would  not  have  the  slightest  desire  to  brush 
against  me." 

"  As  you  like,  my  dear  young  friend." 

This  exceedingly  officious  gentleman  said  no 
more ;  he  turned  away,  and  during  the  rest  of  the 
journey  slept,  or  pretended  to  sleep.  As  to  Trick, 
he  slept  perfectly  well  without  a  pillow,  which  it 
is  mightily  convenient  to  be  able  to  do  when  one 
lacks  that  article. 

They  reached  Paris.  Trick's  companion  alighted 
before  they  reached  the  barrier,  after  again  bidding 
Petit-Trick  to  remember  his  advice. 

The  young  Breton  had  hardly  reached  the  great 
city  when  he  looked  at  the  address  of  the  dealer 
in  novelties,  and  read, — 

"  M.  Fripard,  Rue  aux  Ours." 

Trick  got  some  one  to  point  out  the  Rue  aux 
Ours ;  then,  with  his  carpet  bag  on  his  back,  he 
hurried  to  M.  Fripard's.  The  bric-a-brac  dealer 
was  a  little,  shabby,  yellow  old  man,  who  had  worn 
the  same  frock  coat  for  sixteen  years,  a  fact  which 
demonstrates  his  economical  turn  of  mind.  He 
received  the  young  Breton  rather  harshly. 

"You  are  going  to  be  my  clerk,"  said  he,  "but 
take  care  !  if  you  lose  anything,  if  you  allow  any- 
one to  steal  anything  from  you,  remember,  I  shall 
take  it  out  of  your  pay." 

"That  is  understood,"  answered  Trick;  and  to 
himself  he  added,  "That  won't  prevent  my  saving 
money.'* 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      117 

"You  will  begin  immediately  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  business.  You  will  keep  my 
books ;  they  tell  me  you  write  well  ? " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  You  must  write  very  close  so  as  to  use  less 
paper.     Can  you  write  with  steel  pens  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  supply  you  with  some.  But 
you  are  not  going  to  work  in  that  good  coat  ? " 

"Oh,  no,  monsieur,  I  have  a  jacket  and  a  blouse, 
too ;  I  have  everything  that  is  necessary,  I  am  well 
fitted  out." 

"  Then  get  your  blouse  immediately.  Don't 
take  it  off  except  on  Sundays;  and  even  on  those 
days,  if  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  content  your- 
self with  turning  it." 

Petit-Trick,  saying  to  himself  that  his  patron 
pushed  his  economy  to  extremes,  set  to  work  to 
open  his  bag,  which  on  coming  in  he  had  placed 
in  a  corner  of  the  shop. 

Suddenly  an  exclamation  of  amazement  escaped 
the  young  Breton ;  old  Fripard  was  alarmed,  and 
turning  towards  him,  said  anxiously, — 

"  Have  you  already  broken  something  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur,  it's  not  that ;  but  see  here,  my 
carpet  bag  is  empty,  and  I  had  in  it  eight  shirts, 
twelve  handkerchiefs,  three  waistcoats,  two  pairs 
of  trousers,  two  jackets,  and  a  blouse."  ^ 

The  old  shopkeeper  looked  in  the  bag,  which 
contained  nothing  but  sawdust. 


ii8     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

"Your  uncle  wished  to  give  you  a  lesson  in  econ- 
omy, I  suppose,"  saidM.  Fripard,  "he  thinks  what 
you  stand  up  in  enough  for  you. 

"No,  monsieur,  no;  I  did  my  own  packing,  and 
I'm  sure  I  had  all  I  have  told  you.  And  now  there 
is  nothing  but  sawdust  —  ah,  here  is  a  paper  with 
something  written  on  it." 

Trick  opened  the  paper  and  read, — 

I  have  told  you  to  be  on  your  guard  against  robbers,  you  didn't 
care  to  believe  me,  but  the  good  advice  I  gave  you  is  worth 
a  great  deal  more  than  the  contents  of  your  bag. 

"Why,  the  rascally  thief!"  cried  Trick,  "my 
companion  during  the  journey  has  robbed  me." 

Old  Fripard  made  a  grimace,  saying, — 

"  My  good  fellow,  this  does  not  prove  you  to 
be  very  sharp,  and  I  should  perhaps  do  better  not 
to  take  you  into  my  employ ;  for  I  fear  you  will 
allow  me  to  be  robbed  also." 

Trick  promised  the  old  man  to  be  constantly 
on  his  guard  and  to  place  confidence  in  no  one, 
and  Fripard  consented  to  keep  him,  saying, — 

"  Fortunately  for  you,  your  coat  is  nearly  new, 
and  you  can  wear  it  for  ten  years  as  it  is  without 
having  it  turned." 

"  Yes,  but  I  hope  to  grow  within  the  next  ten 
years,  and  my  coat  will  not  grow,"  said  Trick, 
sighing. 

By  great  good  fortune  the  young  Breton  had 
not  put  his  money  in  his  carpet  bag ;  with  what 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       119 

little  he  had  he  bought  some  new  linen,  and  he 
had  soon  forgotten  this  first  misadventure. 

Petit-Trick  passed  eight  months  at  the  old  nov- 
elty dealer's,  and  as  during  all  that  time  he  had 
not  allowed  himself  to  be  once  caught  napping 
his  confidence  in  himself  had  returned,  and  with  it 
the  vanity  and  bragging  which  were  his  chief  faults. 

The  young  apprentice  was  still  earning  only  four 
francs  a  month,  which  was  very  little ;  but  his  mas- 
ter obliged  him  to  be  economical  and  did  not  allow 
him  the  slightest  distraction  or  pleasure. 

One  fine  morning  a  very  well-dressed  gentle- 
man went  into  the  novelty  dealer's  shop,  having 
seen  in  the  window  a  handsome  umbrella,  almost 
new.  This  individual  examined  the  umbrella  and 
inquired  the  price  of  it. 

"Thirty-six  francs,"  answered  M.  Fripard,  "and 
from  that  I  will  abate  nothing.  This  umbrella  is 
covered  with  magnificent  taffeta,  the  wood  is  choice; 
the  tortoiseshell  knob  is  encrusted  with  gold. 
Thirty-six  francs  is  a  mere  nothing  for  it." 

"  Let  some  one  carry  it  for  me ;  follow  me,  for 
I  am  going  home." 

As  the  gentleman  had  a  cane  it  was  natural  that 
he  should  not  wish  to  load  himself  with  an  um- 
brella also ;  besides,  one  may  be  a  very  honest  man 
and  not  have  thirty-six  francs  in  his  pockets  to 
pay  for  a  purchase  made  "  ex  abrupto." 

Old  Fripard  gave  the  fine  umbrella  to  Petit- 
Trick,  but  he  whispered  to  him, — 


I20     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

"Above  all,  do  not  leave  this  object  without 
having  received  its  equivalent." 

Trick  nodded  his  head  affirmatively ;  he  put  the 
umbrella  under  his  arm  and  followed  the  gentle- 
man, saying, — 

"You  may  be  quite  easy,  master;  I'm  not  one 
to  be  caught;  I  let  them  give  me  sawdust  once, 
it  is  true,  but  if  I  had  held  my  bag  during  the 
whole  journey  that  would  not  have  happened." 

The  fine  gentleman  walked  for  some  distance; 
at  length  he  stopped  at  a  house,  of  which  the  car- 
riage gate  was  open,  he  fumbled  in  his  pockets  and 
exclaimed, — 

"Devil  take  it!  I've  left  my  snuffbox  in  your 
shop.  I  must  have  done  so.  I  remember  very 
well  now  that  I  took  a  pinch  of  snuff;  I  must  have 
left  it  on  a  counter.  I  set  great  store  by  that  snuff- 
box, it  has  a  little  thing  of  Teniers'  stuck  on  the 
top  which  comes  to  me  from  an  aunt  who  stood 
to  me  in  the  place  of  a  mother.  Young  man,  give 
me  that  umbrella  and  kindly  go  back  in  search  of 
my  snuffbox." 

Trick  became  red  up  to  the  ears,  and  he  held 
the  umbrella  still  more  tightly  under  his  arm  ;  for 
he  remembered  the  orders  he  had  received  from 
his  employer. 

The  dandy  resumed  very  graciously, — 

"  I  have  guessed  the  cause  of  your  embarrass- 
ment, young  man,  you  are  afraid  to  leave  the  um- 
brella with  me  without  being  paid  for  it.     I  do  not 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      121 

wonder  at  your  caution,  Paris  has  so  many  thieves 
that  people  have  to  be  upon  their  guard,  especially 
when  they  are  in  business.  Wait,  my  young  friend, 
here  are  two  twenty-franc  pieces,  that  is  rather 
more  than  I  owe  you,  but  remember  my  snuffbox 
and  the  four  francs  which  remain  will  be  for  your- 
self. This  is  where  I  live,  you  will  ask  for 
M.  Breloque  ;  go  quickly  and  I  shall  be  greatly 
obliged." 

Petit-Trick  gave  him  the  umbrella  at  once.  He 
took  the  two  pieces  the  man  gave  him  and  set 
off  running,  delighted  at  earning  in  one  day  what 
he  ordinarily  earned  in  a  month,  and  making  up 
his  mind  to  enjoy  himself  greatly  on  the  following 
Sunday  with  his  four  francs. 

He  arrived  at  the  shop  in  joyous  mood  and 
immediately  began  to  rummage  about  the  shop. 

"  Where  is  that  gentleman's  snuffbox  ?  he  left 
it  here  —  he  is  sure  of  it.  You  must  have  found 
his  snuffbox,  there's  a  little  picture  by  Teniers 
on  It. 

"I've  found  nothing,"  cried  old  Fripard;  "but 
you  idiot,  what  have  you  done  with  the  umbrella  ? 
Have  you  in  spite  of  my  orders  delivered  an  article 
worth  thirty-six  francs  without  being  paid  for  it. 
Well,  if  you  have  I  shall  send  you  away." 

"  Don't  you  be  afraid,  master,  I  ain't  such  a 
simpleton  as  that,  I  ain't.  Wait,  here  are  forty 
francs  in  two  gold  pieces  that  monsieur  gave  me 
to  pay  you,  and   the  change  is  to  be  for  me  if 


122     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

I  find  the  snuffbox ;  hang  it,  I  should  very  much 
like  to  find  it."  And  Trick  set  vigorously  to  work 
to  look  for  it. 

But  the  shopkeeper  had  taken  the  two  pieces 
of  gold  which  had  been  given  him  in  payment, 
their  weight  seemed  to  him  suspicious.  He  ex- 
amined them  closely,  rubbed  them  with  his  finger, 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  anger  and  kicked  his 
young  clerk,  who  was  still  looking  for  the  snuffbox 
under  the  counters. 

"  There,  you  little  rascal !  "  cried  old  Fripard, 
"  take  that  for  your  drink  money ;  these  are  two 
twenty-sous  pieces  that  have  been  gilded,  and  badly 
gilded  at  that.      I  have  been  robbed." 

Trick  was  stunned  for  a  moment,  but  soon  left 
the  shop  running ;  he  remembered  in  what  street, 
at  what  house  he  had  left  the  fine  gentleman ;  he 
reached  it,  recognized  the  gateway,  went  in,  and 
asked  the  porter  for  "M.  Breloque."  The  porter 
answered, — 

"There  has  never  been  a  Breloque  in  this  house." 

Trick  gave  a  description  of  the  gentleman  and 
the  umbrella,  but  the  porter  did  not  seem  to  know 
what  he  was  talking  about. 

The  poor  fellow  returned  weeping  to  Fripard, 
who  said  to  him, — 

"  You  have  thirty-six  francs  to  remit  to  me  for 
the  object  sold ;  you  have  given  me  two,  and 
thirty-four  remain  to  be  paid.  You  have  already 
earned  thirty-two  francs  here ;  you  will  pay  me 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       123 

those  and  go.  I  shall  lose  forty  sous  by  that,  but 
I  would  much  rather  do  so  than  have  you  remain 
longer." 

Trick  gave  up  his  savings,  and  left  the  bric-a- 
brac  dealer's,  asking  himself  what  he  was  to  do. 

Petit-Trick  remembered  then,  that  in  running 
his  errands  he  had  made  acquaintance  with  a  young 
man  employed  in  a  novelty  shop,  who  had  given 
him  his  address ;  he  hurried  off  to  find  him,  that 
he  might  confide  his  troubles  to  him. 

The  young  novelty  clerk  presented  Petit-Trick 
to  his  employer  and  informed  the  latter  of  the 
predicament  in  which  the  poor  lad  stood,  and  the 
merchant  consented  to  take  Trick  as  an  extra  clerk. 

So  here  was  the  young  Breton  placed  in  a  big 
novelty  shop,  where  he  was  not  likely  to  regret 
the  bric-a-brac  shop.  He  conducted  himself  so 
zealously,  showed  so  much  aptitude  for  work,  that 
at  the  end  of  six  weeks  his  employer  allotted  him 
a  salary  of  twelve  francs  a  month. 

Twelve  francs  a  month !  it  was  three  times  as 
much  as  he  had  earned  at  old  Fripard's ;  Trick 
never  doubted  but  that  he  was  on  his  way  to 
fortune. 

He  had  been  In  the  novelty  shop  for  six  months, 
and  there  is  no  need  to  say  that  his  confidence  in 
himself  was  restored  and  that  he  often  exclaimed, — 

"  I  would  not  advise  any  one  to  try  to  take  me 
in  now." 

However,  Trick's  duty  was  to  do  the  errands 


124     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

and  carry  home  to  the  customers  the  goods  they 
had  chosen. 

One  day  he  left  his  shop  holding  under  his  arm 
two  pretty  French  cashmere  shawls,  carefully 
wrapped  and  tied  with  twine. 

A  well-dressed  individual,  who  for  some  time 
past  had  been  following  the  young  clerk,  soon 
accosted  him,  he  spoke  a  jargon  of  German  and 
French,  and  it  often  happened  that  he  spoke  both 
languages  at  once.    He  bowed  to  Trick,  saying, — 

"  My  goot  monsir,  pardon,  forgif  me  for  speak- 
ing to  von  I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  a  foreigner, 
and  I  haf  not  any  acquaintances  here." 

The  young  clerk  began  to  laugh,  and  said, — 

"  Hang  it,  any  one  could  understand  that  you 
are  a  foreigner,  you  speak  French  like  a  chimney- 
sweep." 

"  Yes,  yes,  like  a  shimney  —  Forgif  me,  leedle 
monsir,  you  haf  a  pretty  face  which  inspires  mooch 
gonfidence,  and  if  you  vill  oblige  me  mit  some  in- 
formation, I  vill  gif  you  fife  francs  for  yourself" 

As  he  finished  these  words,  the  foreigner  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  handful  of  hundred-sous  pieces 
and  of  napoleons,  and  the  young  clerk,  who  had 
now  become  accustomed  to  handling  gold  and  sil- 
ver, ascertained  that  the  pieces  were  not  false. 

Dazzled  by  the  sight  of  so  many  coins,  and  ask- 
ing nothing  better  than  to  earn  five  francs  if  he 
could  do  so  in  a  manner  that  was  not  reprehen- 
sibJe,  Tjick  exclaimed, — 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      125 

"  What  service  do  you  ask  of  me,  foreigner  ? 
speak ;  and  if  possible  I  am  ready  to  oblige  you." 

"That  is  quite  possible,  leedle  monsir.  I,  a 
foreigner,  came  to  Paris  to  amuse  myself,  look  you, 
and  I  am  still  bored,  mein  herr !  I  should  like  for 
you  to  show  me  the  way  to  one  of  the  little  the- 
atres where  they  play  farces  which  will  give  one 
a  good  laugh.     Do  you  oonterstandt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  understand  ;  it  is  easy  enough  ;  there 
are  plenty  of  theatres  in  Paris  where  one  can  amuse 
one's  self.  For  instance,  the  Cirque,  Seraphin, 
(Z!urtius,  or  even  the  Delassements-comiques  — 
those  gentlemen  in  the  shop  tell  me  that  they  give 
little  vaudevilles  even  at  I'Opera." 

"Very  well,  sapremann  !  I  should  like  to  go 
to  that  theatre;  will  you  show  me  the  way  there? " 

"  With  pleasure  ;  come  along." 

Petit-Trick  walked  off  and  the  foreigner  followed 
him.  Suddenly,  the  latter  said  to  the  young  man, — 

"  See  here  !  I  have  a  big  sum  of  money  about 
me  —  in  gold,  which  I  should  like  to  hide,  so  I 
do  not  take  id  to  the  theatre  mit  me  —  for  fear  of 
robbers ;  show  me  the  way,  if  you  please,  to  the 
canal  banks,  to  a  part  where  few  people  bass.  Do 
you  oonterstandt  why  ?  " 

"  That's  easy  enough,"  said  Trick,  "  the  canal 
is  right  behind  the  small  theatres." 

They  reached  the  water's  edge  in  a  spot  where, 
as  yet,  no  houses  had  been  built.  The  foreigner 
stopped  before  a  heap  of  stones,  saying, — 


126     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

"  I  should  like  to  hide  my  treasure  here,  help 
me,  leedle  monsir." 

Trick  yielded  to  the  stranger's  fancy ;  he  helped 
to  hide  a  good  round  sum  under  the  stones,  while 
no  one  was  passing  by  the  water.  The  treasure 
hidden,  they  set  off  walking  again. 

They  drew  near  to  the  boulevards,  and  the  little 
clerk  was  about  to  show  his  companion  the  theatre 
he  wished  to  go  to,  when  the  latter  stopped  again, 
saying,— 

"  Allow  me  to  be  excused.  Tevil  take  id  !  I  am 
uneasy.  I  am  afraidt  some  von  vill  steal  my 
money." 

"  Hang  it !  I  told  you  you  were  doing  a  foolish 
thing." 

**  I  must  really  ged  id  again.  Leedle  monsir,  you 
know  where  id  vas  hid,  oblige  me  by  going  to  get 
id,  and  bring  it  back  to  me,  then  I  vill  pay  you  the 
price  agreed  on  mit  us  both." 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  said  Trick,  preparing  to  run, 
but  the  stranger  stopped  him,  saying, — 

"  One  minud,  you  are  going  to  ged  my  gold, 
bud  berhaps  you  don'd  come  back.  Pardon,  bud 
I  don'd  know  you,  and  they  told  me  that  in  Paris 
they  trick  so  many  foreigners." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Trick  laughing,  "they  took 
me  in  even." 

"  Leedle  monsir,  leave  mit  me  the  backet  you 
haf  oonder  your  arm  as  a  security  to  me." 

Trick  reflected  :  the  two  shawls  he  was  carrying 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       127 

were  worth  eight  hundred  francs.  The  stranger 
had  hidden  about  a  million  francs  in  gold,  he  gave 
him  the  packet,  exclaiming, — 

"  That  is  right ;  keep  that,  and  wait  here  for 
me.    I  shan't  be  long." 

Petit-Trick  set  off  running.  He  reached  the 
canal  banks  and  recognized  the  place  where  he  had 
helped  to  hide  the  treasure  ;  he  pulled  away  the 
stones  and  rooted  among  them  —  there  was  noth- 
ing there.  A  confederate  had  already  regained  the 
money,  and  "  leedle  monsir,"  after  removing  all 
the  neighboring  stones,  ran  to  the  place  where  he 
had  left  the  queer-speaking  man  and  of  course 
failed  to  find  him. 

The  poor  fellow  went  back  weeping  to  his  shop, 
where  his  shopmates  told  him  he  had  been  the 
victim  of  robbery  "au  pot"  and  his  employer  dis- 
charged him. 

Petit-Trick  returned  then  to  his  old  uncle,  say- 
ing to  himself, — 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  Paris  !  What  an  ugly 
town  it  is ;  what  lots  of  mud,  dirt,  people,  car- 
riages, omnibuses,  shops,  ragamuffins,  loafers,  idlers 
and  thieves.  I  shall  go  back  to  my  old  uncle,  and 
my  beautiful,  good  Brittany.  There,  at  least,  one 
knows  with  whom  one  is  dealing ;  one  is  not  al- 
ways making  blunders,  and  with  a  little  wit  one 
isn't  obliged  to  be  constantly  on  his  guard,  which 
is  very  tiring  even  for  the  cleverest  people." 

You  see,  young  Trick,  in  spite  of  all  that  had 


128     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

happened  to  him,  was  hardly  cured  as  yet  of  the 
good  opinion  he  held  of  himself;  in  his  anger  he 
laid  it  all  to  the  big  city,  and  blamed  it  for  all  the 
faults  he  had  himself  committed.  But  this  is  our 
usual  custom ;  we  mortals  will  never  confess  our- 
selves in  the  wrong,  at  least,  unless  we  have  a  great 
deal  of  both  mind  and  merit ;  in  the  latter  case  we 
frankly  confess  our  errors,  because  we  do  not  fear 
that  that  will  make  us  pass  for  fools. 

When  Petit-Trick  had  returned  to  his  beloved 
Brittany  he  did  not  relate  to  his  old  uncle  how 
things  had  gone  with  him  in  Paris ;  he  presented 
himself  as  a  victim  of  events  and  circumstances. 
The  old  uncle  believed,  or  pretended  to  believe 
him,  which  comes  almost  to  the  same  thing.  Then, 
eighteen  months  after  his  nephew's  return,  the  old 
man  died,  naming  Trick  as  his  sole  heir.  But  it 
came  about  that  the  old  uncle,  who  had  always 
lived  very  modestly,  and  who  for  that  reason  had 
been  thought  poorer  than  he  was,  left  Petit-Trick 
a  good  round  fortune,  enough  to  enable  him  to 
live  very  comfortably,  in  good  bank  notes  and  in 
gold  pieces  which  he  had  hidden  in  the  bottom  of 
a  chest. 

The  pieces  of  gold,  to  tell  the  truth,  bore  divers 
effigies ;  there  were  louis  with  the  portrait  of  the 
unfortunate  Louis  XVI,  then  there  were  twenty- 
franc  pieces  issued  under  the  Republic,  then  napo- 
leons, and  pieces  coined  in  the  reigns  of  Charles  X 
and  Louis  XVIII,  etc.,  etc. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      129 

Of  all  these  pieces  of  gold  the  ones  which  Petit- 
Trick  seemed  fondest  of  were  the  ones  which  bore 
the  portrait  of  Louis  XVI,  whether  because,  as  a 
Breton,  he  bore  an  attachment  to  that  dynasty,  or 
whether  it  was  because  that  piece  was  worth  twenty- 
four  francs  while  the  others  were  worth  only  twenty, 
we  have  never  rightly  known  —  there  are  so  many 
things  in  this  world  that  we  never  rightly  know. 

Here  was  Trick,  then,  at  the  age  of  eighteen 
years,  free  of  all  control,  and  the  possessor  of  a 
very  pretty  fortune. 

It  was  more  necessary  than  ever  that  he  should 
not  allow  himself  to  be  trapped,  and  that  he  might 
not  be  so,  what  do  you  imagine  Trick  thought  of 
doing  ?  I  will  give  you  a  hundred  guesses,  I  will 
give  you  a  thousand. 

But  as  I  see  that  you  will  never  guess,  I  prefer 
to  tell  you  outright  —  he  thought  of  taking  a  wife  ; 
here  was  an  idea  for  him  to  have.  Certainly  woman 
is  the  prettiest,  most  seductive,  most  provoking 
creature  that  one  can  meet  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ; 
I,  at  least,  have  never  found  anything  more  desira- 
ble, and  I  think  men  generally  will  be  of  my  opin- 
ion ;  but  it  is  precisely  because  woman  possesses 
so  many  attractions,  so  many  charms,  that  it  is 
folly  to  think  of  marrying,  putting  one's  self  in 
chains,  at  eighteen  ;  above  all  is  this  the  case  when 
one  has  never  known  love.  Marriage  demands 
experience  —  a  great  deal  of  experience  —  on  the 
part  of  the  husband,  be  it  understood. 

Vol.  XX 


130     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

"  And  why  on  the  part  of  the  husband  only  ?  " 
the  ladies  perhaps  will  exclaim. 

"  Ah,  mesdames,  because  if  you  also  had  expe- 
rience, you  probably  would  none  of  us." 

Trick  said  to  himself, — 

"  I  am  going  to  choose  a  little  woman  who  will 
be  able  to  render  me  happy.  I  know  what  is 
necessary,  I  cannot  deceive  myself  there. 

"  I  am  cheerful,  so  I  ought  to  take  a  wife  who 
is  jolly  ;  I  have  wit,  and  I  shan't  make  such  a  mis- 
take as  to  marry  a  stupid  woman ;  I  am  shrewd, 
and  my  wife  must  be  full  of  mischief;  I  am  fond 
of  good  eating,  and  I  want  a  wife  who  has  a  good 
appetite ;  I  love  music,  and  I  want  a  wife  who  can 
accompany  my  singing  and  has  a  correct  ear ;  in 
fact,  I  am  well-built  and  have  a  nice  enough  face 
and  it  is  indispensable  that  my  better-half  should  be 
pretty  and  well-made,  so  that  our  children  will  be 
little  cupids." 

You  see  Petit-Trick  had  a  predeliction  for  ho- 
moeopathy. There  are  people  who  think  that  in 
marriage  contrasts  are  better  than  resemblances. 

Certain  it  is,  for  instance,  that  if  two  stubborn 
people  marry  they  will  pass  their  days  in  disputing 
without  ever  wishing  to  yield.  Two  talkative  peo- 
ple will  have  almost  as  much  trouble  in  agreeing 
together.  Two  married  people  of  choleric  dispo- 
sition will  break  everything  around  them ;  two 
greedy  people  will  dispute  over  the  same  morsel. 

But  if  vivacity  is  allied  to  indifference,  wit  to 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      131 

stupidity,  avarice  to  prodigality,  cheerfulness  to 
sadness,  incompatibility  of  temper  will  be  the  inevi- 
table result  of  such  a  union.  It  is  a  very  trouble- 
some question,  so  we  will  return  to  Trick  who, 
like  all  people  who  have  great  confidence  in  them- 
selves, was  never  at  a  loss. 

At  eighteen  years  of  age,  M.  Trick  flattered 
himself  that  he  knew  women.  What  fatuity  !  there 
are  many  men  who  have  lived  and  died  without 
being  able  to  comprehend  them.  Philosophers, 
sages,  savants,  men  of  wit,  and  men  who  were  suc- 
cessful with  the  fair  sex,  have  said  or  written  a 
great  many  things  about  women ;  and  the  greater 
part  of  their  opinions  differ  so  widely  the  one  from 
the  other  that,  after  consulting,  reading,  and  pon- 
dering them,  one  is  as  far  off  as  ever. 

But  young  Trick  had  more  confidence  in  him- 
self than  in  all  the  rest  of  the  world  put  together ; 
and  although  he  had  consulted  neither  Cato,  nor 
Origen,  nor  Tertullian,  nor  Saint  Bernard,  nor  Ca- 
tullus, nor  Juvenal,  nor  Virgil,  nor  Confucius,  nor 
Tibullus,  nor  Voltaire,  nor  La  Fontaine,  nor  Boi- 
leau  —  he  was  certain  of  making  a  good  choice. 

But,  in  the  neighborhood  where  he  lived.  Trick 
had  cast  his  eyes  upon  a  young  person  who  might 
be  about  his  own  age.  She  was  a  provoking  little 
brunette  with  velvety  black  eyes,  long  lashes,  and 
well-defined,  well-arched  eyebrows  ;  her  whole  per- 
son breathed  cheerfulness,  pleasure,  mischief  and 
coquetry ;    her    slender   waist   was   rounded   and 


132     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

supple  and  denoted  that  she  was  graceful  in  all  her 
movements.  Lively  in  humor,  jolly  and  full  of 
fun,  Mademoiselle  Pelagie,  this  was  the  name  of 
the  young  girl,  was  most  attractive  and  winning  at 
the  first  glance  ;  without  doubt,  though,  one  should 
not  marry  a  woman  for  no  better  reason  than  the 
impression  she  produces  at  first  sight. 

People  say  that  when  they  are  reasonable,  but 
this  dangerous  first  glance  usually  does  its  work, 
and  one  cannot  easily  efface  the  impression  made 
by  it. 

Mademoiselle  Pelagie  lived  with  an  old  para- 
lytic aunt.  Is  there  a  feebler  restraint  for  a  young 
girl  than  an  old  aunt  who  cannot  stir  from  her  arm- 
chair ?  Mademoiselle  Pelagie  quite  often  left  her 
aunt  to  the  servant's  care  and  went  by  herself 
about  the  country,  sometimes  on  foot,  sometimes 
on  horseback  ;  the  young  person  sat  her  horse  like 
a  pupil  of  Boucher  or  Franconi ;  she  often  shot 
small  birds  and  she  smoked  cigarettes. 

Trick  had  noticed  all  this  and  he  was  delighted. 
After  following  Mademoiselle  Pelagie,  with  both 
eyes  and  feet,  for  a  long  time.  Trick  accosted  her 
one  day  at  the  edge  of  a  little  wood,  where  she  had 
dismounted  to  allow  her  horse  to  get  his  breath. 

The  youth  approached  the  seductive  Amazon. 

"  Excuse  my  temerity,"  said  he,  "  but  I  have 
long  desired  to  make  your  acquaintance.  I  am 
called  Trick,  and  I  live  on  an  estate  in  your  neigh- 
borhood." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      133 

Mademoiselle  Pelagic  knew  Petit-Trick  well ; 
she  had  noticed  that  for  a  long  time  past  he  had  fol- 
lowed her  everywhere,  that  he  incessantly  dogged 
her  steps ;  and  she  guessed  the  reason  exactly. 

Where  is  the  woman,  the  lady,  the  widow,  the 
young  girl,  who  is  not  aware  when  she  has  made 
a  conquest  ?  unless,  indeed,  in  the  case  of  one  of 
those  timid  lovers  who  only  follow  their  charmers 
afar  off,  who  only  look  furtively  at  them,  and  dare 
not  touch  them  with  the  tip  of  a  finger.  But  this 
kind  of  lover  is  becoming  rare,  there  is  even  reason 
for  thinking  that  the  species  is  altogether  lost. 

Mademoiselle  Pelagic  smiled  encouragingly  on 
young  Trick,  and  answered, — 

"  You  are  not  unknown  to  me,  monsieur;  I 
knew  that  you  were  my  neighbor,  and  I  have  seen 
you  several  times  in  my  walks." 

"  Mademoiselle,  what  I  have  to  say  to  you  may 
seem  somewhat  premature  and  very  bold ;  but  when 
one's  happiness  is  in  question,  I  have  always  thought 
one  should  act  quickly." 

"  That  is  my  opinion  also,  monsieur  ;  so  speak, 
and  do  not  be  afraid  to  explain  yourself." 

"  Mademoiselle,  since  I  inherited  my  uncle's 
property  one  thing  only  has  been  lacking  to  make 
me  completely  happy." 

"  What  is  this  thing  —  monsieur  ?  " 

"  A  wife,  mademoiselle." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,  monsieur  —  a  man 
without  a  wife  is  like  a  body  without  a  mind." 


134     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

Young  Trick  might  have  thought  this  remark 
rather  unflattering,  especially  from  the  mouth  of 
a  young  lady  ;  but,  far  from  that,  he  was  delighted 
at  this  answer,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  You  speak  like  an  angel,  mademoiselle.  Yes, 
I  am  the  body  —  looking  for  a  soul.  Will  you  be 
mine,  ravishing  Pelagie  ?  or,  to  speak  plainly,  will 
you  be  my  wife  ?  I  lay  my  name,  my  person,  and 
my  fortune,  at  your  feet." 

Pelagie  looked  at  the  young  man  with  an  ex- 
pression that  might  have  been  interpreted  to  mean 
several  things  ;  at  last  she  answered, — 

"  You  are  in  love  with  me,  then  ?  " 

"  Madly  in  love." 

"  And  how  long  is  it  since  you  began  to  love 

"  Six  weeks." 

"  And  you  haven't  told  me  till  today  —  you 
must  have  thought  about  it  a  good  deal  !  " 

"It  was  because  I  didn't  dare." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  a  timid  man  seems  to  me  like  a 
lame  horse,  if  you  leave  him  to  himself  he's  sure 
to  throw  you  to  the  ground." 

Trick  was  delighted  with  this  reflection  also. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said, "  I  am  not  lame,  trust 
yourself  to  me,  and  you  will  never  lack  support. 
Can  you  grant  me  what  I  ask  ?  Will  you  allow  me 
to  hope  ? " 

"  You  may  hope,  to  be  sure,  that  never  does  any 
harm.    As  to  accepting  you  for  a  husband  —  pos- 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      135 

sibly  I  may.  However,  I  must  learn  your  dispo- 
sition first,  that  I  may  know  if  you  will  suit  me. 
Can  you  ride  a  horse  ? " 

"  A  little,  mademoiselle." 

"  You  will  mount  behind  me,  we  shall  see  if  you 
know  how  to  keep  on." 

And  without  waiting  for  Trick  to  answer.  Ma- 
demoiselle Pelagie  jumped  lightly  on  her  courser. 
The  young  man  took  much  longer  to  mount ;  at 
last  he  was  seated  on  the  crupper  of  the  saddle. 

"  Hold  tight  to  me,"  said  Pelagie,  "for  I  warn 
you  I  like  to  go  fast." 

"  Oh,  mademoiselle,"  answered  Trick,  clasping 
the  Amazon's  tiny  waist,  "  go  at  a  gallop,  go  as 
fast  as  you  like,  as  fast  as  he  can  lay  legs  to  the 
ground  even  ;  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  ride 
on  horseback  with  you." 

Pelagie  struck  her  horse  with  her  riding  crop, 
and  he  darted  off  at  lightning  speed.  Trick  held 
the  horsewoman  tight  round  the  waist,  but  he 
bounded  on  the  crupper  in  such  a  way  as  to  cause 
him  to  make  some  very  singular  grimaces.  Pres- 
ently Mademoiselle  Pelagie's  courser,  unaccus- 
tomed to  carry  two  persons,  began  to  gambol  and 
prance ;  and  Trick,  to  whom  this  new  kind  of 
exercise  was  unexpected,  let  go  of  his  partner  and 
rolled  in  the  dust. 

"  You  haven't  a  very  sure  seat,"  said  Pelagie 
laughing,  "  but  1  will  give  you  some  lessons.  Have 
you  a  horse  ? " 


136     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

"  No,  mademoiselle." 

"  You  must  buy  a  handsome,  lively,  well-trained 
one  for  me,  and  I  will  give  you  this  one,  which 
never  gambols  when  he  carries  only  one  person." 

The  next  day.  Trick  offered  the  handsome  Am- 
azon a  very  pretty  horse.  Two  days  later  made- 
moiselle made  Trick  give  her  a  beautiful  pearl 
collarette,  and  some  days  later  some  diamond  ear- 
rings. 

The  young  girl  was  full  of  fancies,  and  she  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  To  please  me,  you  will  first  of  all  have  to  sat- 
isfy my  caprices  ;  I  shall  never  believe  in  the  love 
of  a  man  who  fails  to  gratify  all  my  desires." 

"  She  must  be  certain  that  I  love  her,"  said 
Trick  to  himself,  "  for  I  always  hasten  to  give  her 
everything  for  which  she  expresses  the  slightest 
wish ;  but  I  am  quite  certain  that  she  is  grateful, 
and  that  in  return  she  is  madly  in  love  with  me." 
Later  on.  Trick  said  to  Pelagic, — 

"  When  shall  we  be  married  ?  " 

"  By  and  by,  but  I  want  to  study  your  disposi- 
tion a  little  more,"  answered  the  damsel. 

The  only  thing  that  displeased  Trick  was  that 
Mademoiselle  Pelagic  received  a  good  many  young 
men  at  her  house. 

"  If  they  are  lovers,"  said  Trick  to  the  young 
girl,  "  why  don't  you  dismiss  them  ?  for  since  you 
like  me  you  can't  like  them  also." 

This  reasoning  was   entirely   illogical,  for  we 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       137 

always  like  a  good  many  people  at  the  same  time ; 
but  Pelagic  laughingly  answered, — 

"  These  young  men  come  to  see  my  aunt ;  she 
loves  company,  and,  as  it  gives  her  pleasure  to  have 
people  come  to  the  house,  I  am  too  good  a  niece 
to  deprive  her  of  it." 

But  one  fine  morning  Trick  took  it  into  his 
head  to  get  up  sooner  than  usual,  to  see  the  sun 
rise  ;  and  as  he  passed  through  a  dense  bit  of  wood, 
he  came  upon  Mademoiselle  Pelagic  beneath  a  tree 
with  a  handsome  young  fellow,  also  watching  the 
sun  rise. 

Trick  became  white,  yellow,  red  and  blue  with 
anger  at  having  been  thus  duped.  As  to  the  young 
Amazon,  she  only  laughed,  and  said, — 

"  Oh,  so  you  watch  people,  do  you  ?  decidedly 
I  shan't  marry  you,  you  are  too  suspicious,  and 
then  you  don't  know  how  to  keep  your  seat  on 
horseback." 

"  I  am  out  of  pocket  so  far  as  my  presents  are 
concerned,"  said  Trick  to  himself,  as  he  turned 
towards  home  again.  "  But  it  was  very  fortunate 
that  I  found  her  out  before  marriage  instead  of 
after.  Come,  I  was  mistaken  in  her.  I  thought 
that  young  girl  was  rather  free  in  her  actions,  but 
I  am  beginning  to  see  that  she  is  too  much  so.  It 
is  owing  to  her  aunt,  who  is  paralytic.  I  shan't  pay 
my  addresses  again  to  a  damsel  whose  parents  are 
helpless.  How  fortunate  it  was  that  I  got  up  early 
this  morning.     I  shall  look  for  another  wife,  but 


138     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

this  time  I  shall  not  allow  myself  to  be  taken  in, 
I  shall  be  more  careful.  Mademoiselle  was  much 
too  flighty,  and  her  manners  smacked  of  the  stable, 
they  were  very  masculine.  A  timid,  modest  wom- 
an is  much  better.  Oh,  I  shall  find  what  I  want, 
only  I  must  be  quick  about  it." 

Young  Trick  was  in  a  hurry  to  assume  marital 
chains  ;  he  recognized  the  happiness  of  marriage, 
he  thought  as  Voltaire  has  written, — 

.    .    .    Women  were  made  by  heaven. 
Turbid  souls  of  men  to  leaven ; 
To  make  them  better  and  to  give  relief. 
To  calm  their  humors  and  dispel  their  grief. 

However,  Mademoiselle  Pelagic  had  taken  sin- 
gular measures  to  correct  Petit-Trick's  early  rising. 
But  at  eighteen  years  of  age  one  soon  forgets  a 
misadventure. 

A  short  time  after  this  the  young  man  learned 
that  in  a  pretty  bourgeoise  house,  inhabited  by  an 
old  couple  of  independent  means,  there  was  a  young 
lady  of  marriageable  age,  and  that  this  damsel, 
whom  people  cited  for  her  youth  and  beauty, 
passed  also  for  a  model  of  virtue. 

Trick  went  boldly  one  day  to  the  Romorantin 
couple,  presented  himself  as  a  neighbor  desiring 
to  make  acquaintance,  and  for  the  first  time  saw 
Mademoiselle  Seraphinette. 

Picture  to  yourself  a  blonde  with  blue  eyes,  a 
small,  thin-lipped  mouth  ;  a  modest  forehead  on 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       139 

which  her  beautiful  hair  fell  in  thick  curls,  while 
others  fell  on  her  neck  and  shoulders,  which  were 
dazzlingly  white ;  picture  to  yourself  a  young 
person  who  was  short  and  thin,  quite  tiny,  in  fact, 
with  small,  arched  feet  and  modest,  girlish  carriage; 
who  lowered  her  eyes  when  any  one  looked  at  her, 
who  blushed  when  any  one  spoke  to  her,  who  was 
embarrassed  when  she  had  to  answer, —  and  you 
will  have  an  idea  of  mademoiselle  as  she  was. 

When  he  saw  the  old  gentleman's  daughter. 
Trick  immediately  felt  smitten,  charmed,  seduced, 
inflamed. 

You  think,  perhaps,  that  Trick  was  very  suscep- 
tible, but  I  can  only  tell  you  that  he  was  at  that 
time  but  eighteen  and  a  half  years  old ;  and  that 
at  that  age  a  man  is  usually  as  quickly  inflamed  as 
a  package  of  matches;  that  besides,  a  man  should 
always  be  inflamed  at  the  sight  of  beauty ;  that 
God  has  created  him  so.  Ask  the  ladies  what  a 
man  is  who  is  no  longer  influenced  by  beauty,  and 
they  will  tell  you  that  he  is  a  very  undesirable 
person  in  any  society. 

"This  is  the  woman  for  me,  so  innocent,  so 
modest,  so  gentle,  so  well-behaved — with  her  eyes 
almost  always  downcast !  What  a  diflference  be- 
tween her  and  that  perfidious  Pelagic,  whose  eyes 
had  a  trick  of  staring  as  though  they  would  pierce 
through  my  waistcoat  even,  and  who  walked 
almost  like  a  man.  I  will  marry  this  young  girl. 
I  like  to  think  that  she  may  perhaps  find  me  agree- 


140     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

able ;  she  has  not  yet  looked  me  in  the  face  — 
but  I  think  she  did  glance  at  my  profile.  Then 
she  has  such  an  obedient,  submissive  deportment 
towards  her  parents,  that  when  the  latter  say  to 
her,  *You  are  to  become  Madame  Trick,'  I  wager 
she  will  answer,  *  With  pleasure,  papa  ;  when  ever 
you  like,  mamma.* " 

Trick  hastened  to  prefer  his  suit  to  her  parents. 

M.  Romorantin  was  a  tall,  thin  old  man,  yellow, 
dry,  who  looked  a  good  deal  like  a  crow ;  his  wife 
was  a  little  woman,  rather  humpbacked  and  very 
bandy-legged,  and  might  have  taken  the  part  of 
the  fairy  Carabosse. 

Seraphinette's  parents  questioned  Trick  very 
closely  as  to  his  position,  his  fortune,  then  they 
permitted  him  to  hope,  saying, — 

"  In  the  mean  time  we  will  visit  you  at  your 
house,  in  order  that  we  may  assure  ourselves  as  to 
your  position." 

Trick  welcomed  this  proposition  with  joy.  He 
invited  the  family  Romorantin  to  look  upon  his 
house  as  their  own,  and  to  come  and  dine  with  him 
as  often  as  possible. 

It  is  necessary  to  say  that  this  old  gentleman 
who  looked  so  much  like  a  crow  had  a  decided 
liking  for  the  table,  and  that  Madame  Carabosse, 
his  wife,  was,  despite  her  age,  extraordinarily 
coquettish. 

M.  Romorantin  therefore  installed  himself  at 
Trick's ;  he  sat  down  at  the  table  there  at  noon. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       141 

and  remained  at  it  until  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed ; 
whence  they  had  to  lead  him,  sometimes  they  had 
to  carry  him  home  because  his  legs  entirely  refused 
their  office. 

As  to  Madame  Romorantin,  it  was  necessary, 
in  order  to  win  her  good  graces,  that  young  Trick 
should  present  her  with  some  ornament  or  jewel, 
or  some  trifle  that  was  in  fashion,  every  day.  But 
then  Trick  sometimes  had  permission  to  take  a 
turn  in  the  garden  alone  with  Mademoiselle  Sera- 
phinette.  This  was  a  great  favor,  for  the  elderly 
coquette  often  said, — 

"  My  daughter  has  been  brought  up  with  a  care 
that  is  very  rare  now-a-days.  She  has  received  a 
fine  education,  but  she  has  taken  all  her  lessons 
under  our  eyes.  We  have  never  left  her  alone  with 
one  of  her  masters,  even  when  he  was  ninety  years 
old.  Seraphinette  is  a  musician,  a  painter ;  she 
knows  geography,  geometry,  algebra,  astronomy, — 
indeed  she  stands  very  high  in  astronomy,  there's 
not  a  star  in  the  heavens  but  she  has  its  name  at 
the  tip  of  her  tongue.  She  will  no  doubt  become 
capable  of  predicting  eclipses  and  comets.  But 
as  her  master  in  that  science  was  a  very  handsome 
bachelor,  I  thought  she  knew  enough  astronomy 
and  need  pursue  the  study  no  further.  Our  daugh- 
ter is  a  treasure,  and  you  must  show  yourself  wor- 
thy of  possessing  her." 

Trick  neglected  nothing  that  was  likely  to  in- 
duce them  to  give  him  their  treasure;  he  let  old 


142     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

Romorantin  get  tipsy  every  day  with  the  best  wine 
in  his  cellar ;  he  almost  ruined  himself  in  giving 
presents  to  Madame  Carabosse,  and  at  last  they 
promised  Seraphinette  to  him,  and  allowed  him  to 
declare  his  love. 

When  Trick  told  the  modest  little  blonde  that 
he  adored  her  and  was  about  to  become  her  hus- 
band, she  only  lowered  her  eyes  and  dropped  a 
curtsey,  as  she  answered, — 

"  Just  as  you  like,  monsieur." 

This  "just  as  you  like  "  seemed  rather  vague  to 
the  young  man,  who  answered,  trying  to  show  in 
his  voice  all  the  love  he  experienced, — 

"  Why,  mademoiselle,  will  it  not  please  you 
also  ?  *' 

"  Oh,  it's  all  the  same  to  me,  monsieur." 

"Oh,  it  is  all  the  same  to  you  whom  you  marry? 
You  have  not  the  slightest  liking  for  me,  then  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  monsieur." 

"Ah,  you  don't  know  whether  you  love  me?" 

"  Oh,  I  love  everybody,  monsieur." 

Instead  of  finding  little  that  was  reassuring  in 
this  reply  of  his  future  spouse.  Trick  only  saw  in 
it  the  expression  of  an  innocence  of  the  highest 
order ;  he  jumped  with  joy —  he  would  have  fallen 
on  Seraphinette's  neck  had  he  dared,  but  respect 
restrained  him,  and  he  contented  himself  with  kiss- 
ing her  hand  respectfully,  and  saying  to  her, — 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  will  be  the  cream  of  wives 
and  I  that  of  husbands  !  " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       143 

Trick  did  not  for  a  moment  imagine  that  such 
a  union  might  turn  out  badly.  He  was  at  the 
height  of  his  wishes.  The  same  day  he  made  a 
magnificent  present  to  the  old  lady,  who  said  to 
him, — 

**You  will  be  my  son-in-law  next  week." 

In  the  evening  he  brought  home  his  future 
father-in-law,  who  said  nothing,  but  who  kissed 
him  as  they  parted  in  a  manner  truly  pathetic. 

At  the  moment  of  re-entering  his  house  Trick 
perceived  that  he  had  kept  the  key  of  his  future 
father-in-law's  garden  in  his  pocket.  Then  an  idea 
presented  itself. 

"  Now,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  old  Romorantin 
will  be  snoring,  and  his  wife  will  probably  be  doing 
the  same,  what  if  I  should  go  back  to  their  house  ? 
Mademoiselle  Seraphinette's  window  looks  on  the 
garden  and  she  is  on  the  groundfloor;  the  young 
girl  cannot  have  gone  to  sleep  yet,  one  doesn't  go 
to  sleep  so  quickly  when  one  is  on  the  point  of 
marriage  ;  I  shall  knock  softly  on  the  window,  she 
will  open  it,  and  we  will  talk  for  a  little,  I  in  the 
garden  and  she  at  her  window ;  that  will  be  quite 
proper,  and  after  all,  as  I  am  to  marry  this  lovely 
child  in  a  week,  there  is  no  great  harm  in  my  going 
to  talk  with  her  a  little  in  the  moonlight  —  the 
weather  is  delightful,  one  can  see  almost  as  well  as 
in  the  broad  daylight." 

Trick  then  returned  towards  the  dwelling  of  the 
Romorantin  family.    By  the  help  of  the  key  which 


144     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

he  possessed,  he  opened  the  gate  and  soon  found 
himself  in  the  interior  of  the  garden,  which  was  in 
the  front  of  the  house  and  was  quite  large  ;  there 
was  a  lawn,  some  flower-beds,  a  kitchen-garden, 
and  then  a  part  which  had  been  made  into  an 
English  garden  ;  that  is  to  say,  there  was  shrub- 
bery there,  winding  paths,  clumps  of  bushes,  and 
a  thousand  little  turns  which  almost  made  it  into 
a  labyrinth. 

In  crossing  this  part  of  the  garden,  Trick  thought 
he  heard  some  one  speaking  near  him,  he  stopped, 
the  sound  came  from  a  lilac  bush  which  was  then 
full  under  the  moonlight ;  Trick,  being  in  the 
shadow,  did  not  fear  being  seen.  A  sound  which 
very  much  resembled  several  kisses  rapidly  suc- 
ceeding each  other,  strongly  aroused  our  young 
lover's  curiosity,  and  parting  the  foliage  he  then 
perceived  Mademoiselle  Seraphinette,  seated  very 
near  a  handsome  fellow  who  had  his  arm  around 
her. 

"  I  have  taught  you  to  know,"  he  was  saying, 
"  nearly  all  the  planets  ;  the  Great  Bear,  the  Shep- 
herd, the  Three  Kings  and  a  host  of  others  not 
half  so  bright  as  your  eyes  ;  now  if  we  sit  here  and 
observe  the  moon  in  it's  varying  phases,  the  idiot 
you  are  going  to  marry  will  have  nothing  to  teach 
you  by  way  of  astronomy." 

So  saying,  the  professor  again  showered  kisses 
on  the  young  girl,  who  seemed  to  receive  and  re- 
turn them  very  willingly. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       145 

Trick  remained  for  a  moment  petrified  at  this 
evidence  of  the  fair  Seraphinette's  dupHcity ;  but 
he  soon  made  up  his  mind  how  to  take  it,  and 
bursting  into  a  shout  of  laughter,  he  went  off  sing- 
ing a  rather  naughty  song  very  apropos  of  the 
occasion. 

And  the  next  day  when  the  old  crow  came  to 
get  tipsy  at  his  house,  he  showed  him  to  the  door. 

However,  these  two  adventures  had  somewhat 
abated  young  Trick's  vanity  ;  he  was  really  com- 
pelled to  confess  that  he  had  been  taken  in,  and 
that  he  was  not  so  knowing  about  women  as  he 
had  thought. 

Had  he  been  altogether  frank,  he  would  have 
said  that  he  knew  nothing  at  all  about  them. 

Any  one  else  would  have  stopped  there,  and 
would  have  given  up  the  idea  of  marrying.  But 
Trick  was  bent  on  doing  so,  and  they  say  no  one 
can  escape  his  destiny. 

Having  one  day  met  a  very  plain  widow,  of 
whom  it  was  said,  however,  that  she  had  made  her 
deceased  husband  happy.  Trick  offered  himself,  and 
the  proposal  being  agreeable  to  the  widow,  at  the 
end  of  a  fortnight  they  were  married. 

"  Confound  it,"  said  Trick,  the  day  after  his 
wedding,  "  I  have  done  well  to  take  a  wife  who  is 
not  handsome,  I  shall  at  least  be  easy  as  to  her 
fidelity  ;  I  know  well  that  it  is  vexatious  enough 
to  be  obliged  to  take  an  ugly  one  so  I  may  be 
sure  she  will  be  faithful  to  me  j  but,  after  all,  one 

Vol.  XX 


V 


146     PETIT-TRICK  THE  BRETON 

gets  used  to  a  face,  while  I  shall  never  get  wiser 
by  being  taken  in." 

Two  months  after  his  marriage.  Trick,  going 
down  by  chance  into  his  cellar,  where  he  hardly 
ever  went,  surprised  his  wife  there  flirting  in  the 
most  outrageous  way  with  a  neighbor  who  had 
offered  to  come  and  cork  his  bottles. 

"  Hang  it !  "  said  Trick  to  himself,  striking  his 
forehead  ;  "  since  I  cannot  prevent  the  very  thing 
I  wanted  to  avoid,  I  had  much  better  have  taken 
a  pretty  one." 

And  Trick,  leaving  his  wife  there,  went  off  by 
himself  to  live  in  a  remote  spot,  saying  to  him- 
self,— 

"  I  will  never  look  on  a  woman,  I  will  never 
have  anything  more  to  do  with  a  woman  —  like 
that ;  it  would  be  devilish  nice  if  I  should  be  taken 
in  again." 

Trick  held  to"  this  stubbornly.  He  would  not 
understand  that  in  this  lower  world  the  happiest 
people  are  those  who  allow  themselves  to  be  the 
most  easily  taken  in. 

"Vanitas  vanitatum  et  omnia  vanitas!" 


A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

"  I  SHOULD  like  you  to  have  a  day's  pleasuring, 
tomorrow,  you  and  the  children ;  it's  a  devilish  hard 
thing  to  get  you  to  go  out;  when  you  have  passed  a 
couple  of  hours  at  the  Tuileries  in  the  morning 
there's  an  end  of  it,  there's  your  whole  day  gone ; 
you  make  everybody  go  home  again,  and  in  the 
evening  you  think  that  you  have  enjoyed  yourself." 

"  But,  my  dear — " 

"  But,  my  dearest,  permit  me  to  speak  first ;  one 
must  not  grow  egotistical  and  live  only  for  one's 
self.  Our  daughter  is  now  over  fifteen  years  old, 
and  at  that  age  a  girl  likes  to  go  out,  to  walk  about, 
and  to  see  something  beside  her  mother's  skirts." 

"  My  dear,  you  know  very  well  we  have  some 
people  coming,  and  Leonore  — " 

"  Yes,  I  know  we  are  expecting  company, among 
them  that  young  genre  painter  who  affects  the 
romantic,  for  which  reason  he  has  allowed  his  whisk- 
ers to  grow  and  has  a  bunch  of  hair  on  his  lower 
lip.  Whether  he  be  classic  or  romantic  is  all  the 
same  to  me,  provided  he  earns  money.  If  he  really 
loves  Leonore,  we  shall  see ;  I  do  not  say  that  I 
will  or  will  not  give  her  to  him,  there  is  plenty  of 
time  to  think  about  that.     But  now,  to  return  to 


148        A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

my  plan  for  tomorrow.  We  must  have  a  little 
jaunt,  we  must  go  to  some  festival  in  the  outskirts 
of  Paris.  A  village  fete  is  so  very  pleasing.  But 
you  know  nothing  as  to  that,  you  never  want  to 
pass  the  barriers  ;  however,  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
inhabitants  of  Paris  ought  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  outskirts,  at  least,  besides,  they  really  belong 
to  Paris ;  people  get  their  newspapers  at  noon  in- 
stead of  at  eight  o'clock,  and  they  pay  four  sous 
postage  on  their  letters  instead  of  three,  that  is  the 
only  difference  ;  we  have  many  men  of  talent  and 
merit,  such  as  poets,  painters,  publishers  even  — 
that  is  to  say,  retired  pubUshers  —  who  live  in  the 
suburbs  now  because  they  can  live  cheaper  there, 
where  they  pay  a  sou  a  pound  less  for  meat.  You 
must  know  there  is  great  economy  in  that.  On 
two  hundred  pounds  of  meat  consumed  during  the 
year,  there  is  ten  francs  saved.  It  is  true  a  man 
must  spend  quite  twenty-five  francs  in  cab  hire  to 
go  back  and  forth  to  Paris,  but,  all  the  same,  it  is 
very  economical  to  live  in  the  country  —  we  shall 
go  there  tomorrow." 

"  I  am  not  a  great  walker,  and  — " 
"We'll  take  an  omnibus  or  a  hackney  coach; 
are  there  not  conveyances  everywhere  now  ?  Pres- 
ently we  shall  be  able  to  go  round  the  world  for 
six  sous.  Why,  here's  our  daughter  jumping  for 
joy  already,  and  Alexandre,  poor  boy,  how  he  is 
going  to  enjoy  himself  in  the  country  —  hey  !  " 
"  Oh,  yes,  papa." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      149 

"  That's  all  settled,  then  ;  now  you  must  arrange 
everything  so  as  to  be  ready  to  start  not  later  than 
noon,  for  one  must  not  set  out  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  to  go  to  dine  in  the  country.  I'll 
go  and  inquire  where  there  is  a  village  festival  in 
progress.  You  will  see  something  you  never  saw 
before,  Madame  Barbeau,  and  you  must  tell  me 
how  you  like  it." 

M.  Barbeau  had  left  his  wife ;  you  think,  per- 
haps, that  he  went  to  obtain  information  for  the 
next  day  and  to  settle  upon  the  locality  to  which 
he  should  take  his  family  ?  Not  at  all,  M.  Bar- 
beau had  not  taken  ten  steps  after  leaving  home 
before  he  had  quite  forgotten  all  he  had  said  to 
his  wife  of  his  plan  for  the  morrow. 

He  met  a  friend,  first  of  all,  took  his  arm,  wished 
him  good-day,  and  inquired  about  his  health,  with- 
out leaving  his  friend  time  to  answer.  Then  he 
entered  into  conversation,  if  one  can  call  that  con- 
versation where  one  person  does  all  the  talking ; 
and  note  well  this  fact,  M.  Barbeau  incessantly 
recalled  new  incidents  which  led  to  other  stories, 
which  necessitated  further  explanations  in  such  a 
manner  that  it  seemed  as  though  he  would  never 
be  done.  No  one  could  remember  the  point  from 
whence  he  started,  in  fact,  he  often  forgot  it  himself; 
for  apropos  of  a  play  at  the  varieties  he  would 
ramble  off  to  Belgium  or  pates  de  Lesage  ;  his 
discourse  was  exactly  like  the  "  Arabian  Nights," 
one  story  led  to  another,  and  that  to  several  others. 


V 


I50       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

I  defy  any  one  to  get  away  from  him,  and  when 
by  chance  one  wished  to  slip  in  the  slightest  re- 
mark or  reflection,  M.  Barbeau  would  stop  him, 
saying,— 

"  Pardon  me,  I  had  not  finished." 

But  for  all  this,  M.  Barbeau  was  a  good  liver, 
a  jolly,  straightforward,  rotund  man,  in  mind  as 
well  as  physiognomy ;  cheerful,  jovial,  amiable 
even,  except  to  chatty  people,  who  never  could  get 
on  with  him. 

He  was  a  retired  publisher,  and  had  known 
many  men  of  talent ;  he  could  recall  a  word  of  one, 
a  trait  of  another ;  he  loved  to  bring  them  in  in 
his  conversation,  which  was  amusing  to  those  who 
cared  to  listen  to  him.  He  had  done  a  great  deal 
of  business,  of  which  he  had  forgotten  the  disa- 
greeable and  remembered  only  the  pleasant  epi- 
sodes. He  was  of  a  happy  disposition ;  never 
uneasy  in  advance,  never  so  even  in  difficult  mo- 
ments ;  absent-minded,  careless,  seeing  only  the 
good  side,  even  in  the  most  vexatious  things. 
When  his  business  went  badly,  when  he  had  a  thou- 
sand reasons  for  being  troubled  in  the  present  and 
uneasy  as  to  the  future,  what  did  M.  Barbeau  ? 
Why,  as  soon  as  it  was  light  he  left  his  house  and 
went  off  to  pass  his  whole  day  in  playing  dominos. 
But  he  remained  friendly  with  everybody  ;  that  is 
the  best  praise  that  can  be  accorded  him. 

Madame  Barbeau  was  as  quiet  as  her  husband 
was  lively,  and  as  the  extremes  thus  met,  it  was  a 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       151 

proof  that  they  were  in  accord.  Their  daughter 
was  fifteen  years  old,  she  was  timid  and  spoke  lit- 
tle ;  their  son  was  ten,  and  already  made  as  much 
noise  as  his  father.  This  was  the  whole  family. 
On  the  following  day,  it  being  Sunday,  the  mamma 
and  the  children  were  ready,  dressed  to  go  out,  at 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  but  it  was  past 
noon  and  they  waited  vainly  for  M.  Barbeau,  who 
had  gone  out  very  early,  saying  he  would  not  be 
five  minutes  absent. 

The  genre  painter  had  come  to  pay  a  visit  to 
the  ladies  and  had  asked  permission  to  accompany 
them  on  their  excursion  into  the  country,  he  wanted 
to  make  some  sketches  there. 

But  time  passed  and  the  head  of  the  family  did 
not  return.  The  young  girl  sighed  as  she  looked 
at  the  clock ;  the  painter  sighed  as  he  looked  at 
the  young  girl,  and  the  little  boy  looked  at  his 
new  trousers.  Only  the  mamma  preserved  her 
good-humored  expression,  after  keeping  house  for 
twenty  years  she  was  used  to  awaiting  her  husband. 

At  length,  just  as  it  was  striking  two,  M.  Bar- 
beau  came  in  with  a  little,  dry,  withered  man  who 
bowed  graciously  to  the  whole  family,  while  the 
retired  publisher  exclaimed, — 

"  Here  I  am.  Just  imagine,  I  totally  forgot  our 
country  excursion,  I  met  a  man  with  whom  I 
lunched,  a  man  whom  I  hadn't  seen  for  a  dozen 
years  at  least,  and  a  good  many  adventures  had 
befallen  him,  which  he  has  been  telling  me,  and 


V 


152        A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

which  I  will  relate  to  you  on  the  way.  After  lunch 
we  were  walking  quietly  to  the  Palais- Royal;  there 
I  met  Grigou  here,  who  said  to  me  as  we  chatted, 
'It's  a  very  fine  day,  I  should  hke  to  go  to  the 
country.'  Thereupon  I  smote  my  forehead  and 
exclaimed, — 

"  *Good  heavens  !  and  they  are  all  expecting  me 
at  the  house  to  go  to  a  village  festival.'  I  proposed 
to  Grigou  to  come  with  us  and  he  accepted ;  the 
more  fools  there  are,  the  more  everybody  will  laugh. 
Come,  wife,  send  some  one  for  a  carriage,  and  be 
sure  and  tell  the  maid  to  get  a  large  one." 

The  carriage  came  ;  although  it  was  large,  the 
party  had  some  trouble  in  stowing  themselves  away 
in  it,  because  M.  Barbeau  himself  almost  took  up 
one  side  of  the  vehicle.  They  did  the  best  they 
could  by  putting  the  children  on  one  seat  with  their 
mother,  while  M.  Grigou  was  almost  hidden  be- 
hind M.  Barbeau,  to  whom  he  said,  "  I  shall  be 
stifled,"  and  the  latter  answered  him,  "  You're  all 
right  —  try  not  to  move  too  much." 

"  Where  are  we  to  go  ? "  asked  the  coachman. 

At  this  very  natural  question,  each  looked  at 
the  other,  and  Madame  Barbeau  said  to  her  hus- 
band,— 

"Well,  my  dear,  where  are  we  going  ? " 

"  Devil  take  me  !  if  I  know  anything  about  it! 
Coachman,  where  is  there  a  fete  champetre  today  ?  '* 

The  coachman  reflected  for  some  time,  then  he 
answered, — 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       153 

"  Mercy !  there  is  one  at  Tivoli,  at  la  Chau- 
miere." 

"  That  won't  do  ;  we  want  to  go  into  the  coun- 
try, to  some  place  where  they  are  having  a  junket." 

"  Oh,  that's  different.  Would  you  like  me  to 
take  you  to  Batignolles  to  Father  Lathuille's  ? " 

"  We  know  Father  Lathuille  ;  one  dines  well  at 
his  place,  but  that  is  not  quite  far  enough  out  in 
the  country  for  us." 

"  I  think  there  is  a  fete  at  Belleville." 

"  Let's  go  to  Belleville,  then  ;  off  we  go  !  " 

"  But,"  suggested  M.  Grigou,  trying  to  show 
himself  from  behind  M.  Barbeau's  back,  "  Belle- 
ville is  not  very  countrified,  it's  like  a  Parisian 
faubourg ;  we  can  do  better  than  that." 

"  Come,  you  always  differ  in  opinion  from  the 
rest  of  us.  We  must  amuse  ourselves  at  Belle- 
ville, we  shall  see  the  fete.  Let  me  manage  the 
thing,  and  don't  move  about  so  much." 

The  little  man  said  nothing  more  ;  he  only  tried 
to  get  an  arm  free,  in  order  that  he  might  draw  his 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket  to  wipe  his  face. 

During  the  whole  ride  M.  Barbeau  related  the 
adventures  of  the  friend  he  had  met  in  the  morn- 
ing. They  let  him  talk  on  without  interrupting 
him;  this  being  the  family  custom.  The  young 
painter  looked  at  Leonore,  while  he  seemed  to  be 
absorbed  in  her  father's  stories.  As  to  Friend 
Grigou,  he  was  not  always  content  to  be  a  listener ; 
he  liked  also  to  relate  his  story,  to  say  his  word. 


154       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

but  he  let  Barbeau  talk  in  the  carriage,  saying  to' 
himself, — 

"  I  shall  have  my  turn  when  we  get  into  the 
fields." 

They  soon  reached  Belleville.  The  coachman 
stopped  before  the  He  d' Amour.  The  party 
alighted,  dismissed  the  carriage,  and  walked  for  a 
short  distance  along  the  principal  street  of  the  vil- 
lage, looking  for  some  signs  of  a  festival.  But  all 
was  very  quiet ;  there  was  not  even  a  shop  where 
they  sold  gingerbread  or  cream-cakes.  The  mamma 
walked  sedately  along,  holding  her  daughter's  arm  ; 
the  little  boy  marched  in  the  middle  of  the  gutter 
and  tried  to  get  himself  dirty,  that  he  might  at 
least  be  doing  something  ;  the  painter  in  vain 
sought  a  country  site  in  the  principal  street  of 
Belleville,  and  Grigou  looked  around  him  in  a  very 
bad  humor,  muttering, — 

"  Is  this  what  they  call  the  country  ?  '* 

Suddenly,  M.  Barbeau  stopped  in  front  of  the 
party,  saying, — 

"  Here  we've  been,  for  the  past  fifteen  minutes, 
walking  along  like  imbeciles;  do  you  call  this 
amusing  ? " 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  I  should  say  not." 

"  And  so  should  I,  the  coachman  is  a  stupid- 
head,  there's  no  fete  here  ;  but  we  are  not  obliged 
to  stay.  Let's  go  up  the  village  and  go  to  the 
Romainville  wood,  perhaps  there's  a  fete  there." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       155 

'  "  Romainville  !  I  don't  like  that  wood,"  said 
M.  Grigou ;  "  once  when  I  wanted  to  have  a 
chestnut — " 

"  Come,  Grigou,  you  are  never  of  the  same  opin- 
ion as  anybody  else,  it  is  necessary  to  put  one's 
self  aside  in  society ;  you  always  want  your  own 
way  !  it's  ridiculous  !  " 

"Why,  it  appears  to  me,  on  the  contrary — " 

"  We  will  go  to  Romainville  ;  that  is  settled." 

They  left  Belleville,  crossed  the  Saint-Fargcau 
park,  they  were  in  the  country. 

"  Oh,  papa,  a  donkey  !  "  shouted  the  little  boy. 

"  Do  you  want  to  ride  a  donkey  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  papa  !  " 

"  We'll  hire  one,  then,  we  must  amuse  ourselves 
in  the  country  !  Nonore  will  ride  also  —  and  you, 
wife  ? " 

"  Why,  the  idea  !  are  you  mad,  M.  Barbeau  ?  " 

"Would  you  like  a  horse  better?  I'll  hire  you 
a  little  pony." 

"  Neither  a  horse  nor  a  donkey  ;  as  if  I  should 
be  able  to  hold  on  !  " 

"  Grigou,  you'll  have  a  horse  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  I  haven't  mounted  one  for  I  don't  know 
how  long  —  wait  a  bit  — " 

"It's  not  worth  while,  I'll  go  and  hire  some 
horses." 

M.  Barbeau  had  two  donkeys  and  two  horses 
saddled.  His  son  and  his  daughter  mounted  on 
the  quieter  animals.    M.  Grigou  wished  in  vain  to 


156       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

resist.  His  friend  got  him  on  horseback  despite 
himself;  then  he  bestrode  the  other  courser  and  the 
procession  started,  followed  by  the  mamma,  whose 
feet  were  already  very  bad,  and  the  genre  painter, 
who  would  have  liked  to  stop  to  sketch  a  view. 

M.  Barbeau  and  his  friend  soon  lost  sight  of  the 
donkeys.  They  entered  the  wood,  and  in  a  slop- 
ing path  which  M.  Barbeau  thought  best  to  take 
at  a  trot.  Friend  Grigou  shot  over  his  horse's  head, 
the  animal's  front  legs  failing  him. 

"  I  was  sure  that  would  happen  to  me,"  ex- 
claimed Grigou,  calling  for  help  and  uttering 
mournful  groans. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  said  M.  Bar- 
beau, coming  back. 

"  You  see  very  well  —  I  fell." 

"  Because  you  don't  know  how  to  stick  on." 

"  Why,  this  confounded  horse  threw  me." 

"It  is  that  you  don't  know  how  to  hold  your 
horse." 

"  It  is  your  fault !  " 

"  Come,  you  are  not  hurt.  That's  nothing ;  in 
the  country  one  must  amuse  one's  self.  Let's  go 
back  and  find  the  ladies." 

"  Let  us  go  back ;  but  I  shan't  mount  again ; 
I  shall  lead  my  horse  by  the  bridle." 

"You  are  too  timid." 

The  gentlemen  returned  towards  the  edge  of  the 
wood  ;  they  saw  a  donkey  rolling  on  the  sand  after 
throwing  the  lady  who  was  riding  him,  and  who 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       157 

had  fallen  in  such  a  way  that  the  skirt  of  her  dress 
hid  her  face. 

"  By  Jove  !  that's  delightful,"  cried  M.  Bar- 
beau.  "  Look  there,  Grigou,  what  a  pity  Belle- 
feuille  is  not  here.  What  a  pretty  genre  picture  he 
would  make  of  that !  " 

Grigou  sought  his  spectacles  that  he  might  the 
better  see  this  picture,  but  before  he  had  found 
them  Madame  Barbeau  came  running  on  the  op- 
posite side  and  had  drawn  down  the  skirt  which 
hid  the  features  of  the  young  person  who  had  fal- 
len ;  then  M.  Barbeau  saw  it  was  his  daughter  on 
the  ground,  and  he  did  not  think  it  quite  so  funny. 
He  got  down  from  his  horse  and  ran  to  his  wife, 
who  was  wringing  her  hands  and  crying. 

"  What  is  the  matter  here  ?  " 

*'  My  daughter  has  had  a  fall — this  ugly  donkey 
insisted  on  lying  down." 

"  I  know  all  that.  Are  you  hurt,  Leonore,  my 
dear  ? " 

"  Oh,  dear  no,  papa  !  " 

"Then  don't  think  any  more  of  it." 

"  Don't  think  any  more  of  it !  That  is  easy 
for  you  to  say,"  said  the  mamma;  "but  my  daugh- 
ter fell  in  a  very  disagreeable  manner." 

"  I  know  all  that.  Did  Bellefeuille  see  her,  do 
you  think  ? " 

"  No,"  answered  madame,  "  thank  heaven  he 
had  remained  behind." 

"  Then  there  is  no    harm    done.     All's  well. 


158       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

Hello,  Bellefeuille !  my  dear  fellow,  have  the  kind- 
ness to  take  back  these  horses  and  this  donkey, 
we've  had  enough  of  them.  We'll  sit  down  and 
roll  on  the  grass  while  we  wait  for  you." 

The  young  artist  was  not  at  all  delighted  at  this 
commission,  but  he  dared  not  refuse ;  he  started 
on  a  horse,  leading  the  donkey  and  the  other  horse 
by  the  bridle.  M.  Barbeau  shouted  to  him  that 
he  looked  as  if  he  were  imitating  Franconi. 

"  We'll  go  into  that  restaurant  down  there,  and 
inquire  if  there's  a  fete  about  here,"  said  M.  Bar- 
beau. 

"  I  see  nothing  to  indicate  one,"  said  Grigou, 
"  but  I  am  already  hungry." 

"  However,  it  is  not  dinner  time  yet,  we  have 
lots  of  time." 

"  Lots  of  time !  because  you've  had  a  good 
luncheon  you're  not  in  a  hurry." 

"  My  wife  is  waiting  for  us  on  the  grass  with  her 
daughter.  I'll  go  and  find  out  if  there's  a  festival 
about  here,  and  where  it  is  held." 

Madame  Barbeau  wished  nothing  better  than  to 
sit  and  rest  with  her  daughter,  and  Grigou  fol- 
lowed his  friend  Barbeau. 

The  restaurateur  to  whom  they  presented  them- 
selves was  as  talkative  as  M.  Barbeau ;  in  answer 
to  a  single  question  he  involved  himself  so  far  in 
his  phrases  that  he  could  not  get  out  of  the  tangle ; 
in  giving  a  direction,  he  began  by  describing  the 
whole  neighborhood ;  and  when  anyone  asked  him 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       159 

if  he  could  give  them  dinner  he  enumerated  the 
number  of  dishes  he  could  prepare,  and  those  he 
had  invented,  and  even  gave  a  recipe  for  the  sauce, 
and  all  that  in  order  to  inform  his  customer  that 
he  had  nothing  but  roast  veal. 

M.  Barbeau  got  into  a  perspiration  with  im- 
patience, he  interrupted  the  man  abruptly  in  the 
middle  of  a  description  of  a  dessert  dish  of  his  own 
composition,  and  said  to  him, — 

"I  have  been  asking  you  for  an  hour  if  there  is 
a  fete  at  Romainville,  if  we  shall  find  a  good  din- 
ner at  your  place,  and  instead  of  answering  me  you 
talk  about  sweetmeats,  jams,  and  jellies.  Do  you 
suppose  I  came  to  you  to  learn  cooking  ? " 

"Monsieur  —  what  is  it?  what  have  I  done? 
have  I  insulted  you  ?  If  I  have  insulted  you, 
monsieur,  I  am  a  man  and  I  will  give  you  every 
satisfaction." 

"  Go  to  the  devil !  why,  you're  proposing  a  duel 
to  me  now.  We  won't  dine  here,  for  you  talk  too 
much  and  don't  attend  to  your  business." 

M.  Barbeau  left  the  restaurant  followed  by  Gri- 
gou,  who  said, — 

"  We  must  dine  somewhere,  however." 

They  seated  themselves  on  the  grass.  M.  Belle- 
feuille  came  back  with  little  Alexandre,  who  wrig- 
gled as  he  walked,  because  he  had  torn  his  trousers 
while  riding  the  donkey  and  was  afraid  his  mamma 
would  see  it.  But  just  then  mother  and  daughter 
were  admiring  the  very  fine  walnuts  on  a  tree  at  a 


i6o       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

little  distance  from  where  they  were  seated,  and 
M.  Barbeau  was  deep  in  a  story  which  was  not  at  all 
amusing  to  Grigou  because  there  was  no  end  to  it. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  then,"  said  the  retired  pub- 
lisher, "  that  one  day  being  in  the  country  with 
some  friends  we  took  upon  ourselves  to  make  a 
big,  jolly  fellow  called  Duloiret  tipsy — he  had  just 
come  up  from  his  province." 

"Duloiret!  why,  I  knew  him!"  cried  Grigou. 

"That's  all  right,  but  the  fact  that  you  knew 
him  has  no  bearing  on  my  story." 

"Yes,  but  I  know  what  they  made  him  do,  and 
to  prove  it,  I'll  tell  you  the  story,  and — " 

"  No,  permit  me,  I  ought  to  know  better  than 
you,  and  I  believe  I  can  tell  it  better  also." 

And  without  awaiting  his  friend  Grigou's  per- 
mission, M.  Barbeau  resumed  his  anecdote,  which 
would  necessarily  lead  to  a  dozen  others.  How- 
ever, in  the  midst  of  his  recital  the  father  of  the 
family  perceived  that  his  son  and  daughter  were 
absorbed  in  something  else ;  he  said  to  them, — 

"  What  are  you  looking  up  into  the  air  for, 
while  I  am  speaking  ? " 

"  Those  are  walnuts  over  there  and  very  fine 
ones." 

"Mamma,  do  you  want  me  to  climb  the  tree?" 
exclaimed  little  Alexandre. 

"  No,  my  friend,"  said  papa,  "  you  have  torn 
your  trousers  enough  already;  if  you  should  climb 
the  trees  you  would  enlarge  the  rent  so  as  not  to 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       i6i 

be  able  to  go  back  to  Paris.    Grigou,  come  and  get 
some  nuts  for  the  ladies,  you  see  Bellefeuille  is  mak- 
ing his  sketches ;  you  aren't  very  gallant,  Grigou." 
"  Why  don't  you  climb  up  yourself?  " 
"  I  am  not  light  like  you." 
"  But  is  it  permitted  to  climb  the  trees  ? " 
"  To  get  a  few  nuts  ?     Why,  don't  be  afraid." 
Grigou  decided  to  climb  up  and  beat  down  a 
few  nuts;    he  preferred  to  do  it  to  listening  to 
M.  Barbeau's  stories. 

The  latter  extended  himself  on  the  grass  beside 
Bellefeuille,  and  said  to  him, — 

"  If  I  were  a  painter  I  would  sketch  all  the 
natural  things  I  could  see." 

"  Monsieur,  that  is  not  so  easy,  to — " 
"  Pardon  me,  allow  me  to  unfold  my  idea,  I 
have  had  a  few  happy  thoughts  in  my  life.     I  have 
often  given  an  author  a  subject,  an  idea,  for  a  book, 
and  those  books  always  sold  well." 

"  Why,  a  book,  monsieur,  is  not  at  all — " 
"  I  hadn't  finished,  my  dear  fellow.     Hold,  look 
at  these  people  who  are  passing  before  us.     It  is 
Paris  in  the  country,  here." 

"That  is  to  say,  these  are  bourgeois,  workmen." 
"  That's  what  they  are,  and  if  I  were  a  man  of 
letters  or  a  painter  I  would  profit  by  it.  Wait, 
here  are  a  couple  coming  along;  these  are  inhabi- 
tants of  Paris,  as  it  is  Sunday  they  are  very  well 
dressed.  They  put  their  heads  too  near  together 
when  they  speak,  and  look  at  each  other  too  often. 

Vol.  XX 


i6i       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

to  be  man  and  wife.  The  young  man  is  pouting 
a  little;  the  lady  was  perhaps  unwilling  to  go  into 
the  wood  with  him.  But  they  are  going  into  a 
restaurant,  they  will  have  a  private  room  and  make 
it  all  up  again.  He  seems  like  a  dealer  in  novel- 
ties and  lingerie ;  notice  what  a  choice  collarette 
the  lady  has  on,  and  that  the  young  man's  waist- 
coat and  trousers  are  made  of  new  stuff. 

"  Who  are  these  going  down  there  laughing  and 
jumping  and  making  noise  and  dust  ?  It  is  un- 
necessary to  ask,  they  are  grisettes,  but  grisettes  of 
the  second  order;  they  are  none  the  less  cheerful  for 
having  set  aside  all  ceremony.  There  are  five  of 
them,  and  not  a  single  poor  Httle  man  among 
them,  but  that  does  not  prevent  them  from  laugh- 
ing, from  having  a  thoroughly  good  time ;  these 
damsels  would  not  think  they  were  amusing  them- 
selves if  they  did  not  make  as  much  noise  as  an 
army  in  retreat ;  they  poke  fun  at  everyone  they 
meet ;  there,  they  are  stopping  now,  and  consulting 
as  they  look  at  the  eating-house.  I'll  wager  they 
are  counting  what  money  they  have  among  the  five 
to  see  if  they  can  go  in  to  dinner  there.  They 
open  their  bags,  they  calculate.  You  see  the  re- 
sult ;  instead  of  going  into  the  best  restaurant  here- 
abouts, they  turn  towards  a  little  inn  ;  their  means 
will  not  permit  them  more  than  home-made  wine 
and  omelette  and  bacon.  But  they  will  indemnify 
themselves  this  evening  in  making  the  first  imbe- 
cile who  wants  to  court  them  pay  for  beer  or  punch. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       163 

"  Then  all  the  week,  while  binding  shoes  or 
making  buttonholes,  they  will  remember  the  pleas- 
ures of  Sunday.  They  must  have  some  philoso- 
phy, or  a  great  fund  of  good-humor,  to  make  one 
day's  pleasure  suffice  for  a  whole  week.  It  is  true 
there  are  some  rich  people,  and  people  of  position, 
who  don't  amuse  themselves  one  day  out  of  seven 
even.     There  is  compensation  for  everything. 

"Ah,  here  are  some  of  the  natives;  they  are 
strong  and  robust,  but  they  are  ugly.  In  general 
the  peasants  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris  are  not  pretty, 
nor  does  one  see  anywhere  such  picturesque  head- 
gear as  in  Normandy  or  Franche-Comte.  These 
flat  caps  are  not  at  all  becoming,  and  these  peas- 
ants always  wear  short  gowns  which  do  not  allow 
one  to  see  whether  they  are  well-made  or  not.  The 
peasant  who  is  with  them  has  put  on  his  police  hel- 
met, to  show  that  he  is  in  the  National  Guard ;  since 
it  is  deemed  well  that  these  good  people  should 
be  drilled,  they  believe,  even  when  working,  that 
it  is  their  duty  to  assume  something  of  a  military 
appearance,  and  wherefore  ?  it  is  not  a  crime  to  be 
more  at  one's  ease  in  a  blouse  than  in  a  uniform. 

"  But  here  is  a  workman  in  his  Sunday  clothes, 
who  is  bringing  his  family  here  ;  he's  drawing  a  lit- 
tle wicker  carriage  containing  his  two  last  babies, 
with  the  provisions  for  dinner.  His  wife  is  behind 
him  ;  she  carries  nothing,  but  it  is  easy  to  be  seen 
that  in  the  near  future  one  of  the  youngsters  in  the 
go-cart  will  be  ousted  from  his  proud  position  by 


i64       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

a  newcomer ;  she  is  cross  and  disagreeable,  com- 
plains all  along  the  road,  and  never  speaks  to  her 
husband  except  to  say,  *  Take  care  !  you  are  jolt- 
ing it  over  the  stones  ;  you'll  upset  them.  How 
carelessly  you  do  draw  it.'  And  the  poor  man,  who 
is  bathed  in  perspiration,  tries  to  persuade  himself 
that  he  is  enjoying  his  Sunday,  and  works  like  a 
convict  during  the  week  to  procure  this  pleasant 
diversion. 

"  Why,  here's  a  cavalcade  !  Why,  my  dear  Belle- 
feuille,  is  not  that  worth  the  trouble  of  sketching  ? 
these  horsemen  with  otter-skin  caps  and  ragged 
neckties.  As  they  have  no  straps  to  their  trous- 
ers, those  garments  are  pulled  almost  up  to  their 
knees,  and  as  they  have  no  stockings  in  their  shoes 
they  show  their  naked  legs  to  the  passers-by,  which 
on  horseback  produces  a  very  pretty  effect.  On 
seeing  these  horsemen  in  tatters  one  is  tempted  to 
say,  *  Instead  of  hiring  a  horse  at  thirty  sous  an 
hour,  would  it  not  be  better  if  you  were  to  buy 
some  stockings  ? '  They  might  answer  you,  *  Don't 
meddle  in  what  doesn't  concern  you.'  That's 
right;  that's  why  I  say  nothing  to  them." 

While  M.  Barbeau  was  making  his  original  re- 
view, which  he  had  not  yet  completed.  Friend 
Grigou  had  directed  his  steps  towards  the  walnut 
tree  at  which  he  was  throwing  stones ;  how  this 
game  reminded  him  of  his  youth  !  he  was  delighted, 
and  every  time  a  walnut  fell  at  his  feet  he  shouted, 
"  There's  another  !  ^'    He  had  launched  his  twen- 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       165 

tieth  stone,  and  picked  up  his  eighth  walnut,  which 
does  not  say  much  for  his  skill,  when  a  little  man, 
decorated  with  a  tin  badge,  armed  with  a  great 
sabre,  and  having  a  three-cornered  hat  on  his  head, 
of  which  the  point  was  placed  exactly  over  the  nose, 
dashed  at  him  and  seized  him  by  the  collar,  shout- 
ing,— 

"Ah,  I've  caught  you  at  it !  Such  brazon  effron- 
tery —  on  a  Sunday,  and  before  everybody.  Come 
along  to  prison,  Parisian." 

Grigou  tried  to  excuse  himself  and  to  get  away ; 
but  the  keeper,  who  was  usually  half  seas  over  on 
week  days,  on  Sundays  got  completely  tipsy  and 
would  not  listen  to  reason  or  let  go  of  his  man. 
Several  peasants  had  already  come  running,  and 
they  were  not  sparing  of  their  insults  to  Grigou. 
Peasants  are  always  delighted  when  they  can  molest 
city  people.  To  hear  them  one  would  think  that 
the  inhabitants  of  Paris  came  to  the  country  only 
to  pillage  and  destroy  ;  however,  these  farm  labor- 
ers and  ploughmen,  who  are  pictured  to  us  some- 
times as  possessed  of  all  the  domestic  virtues,  while 
they  really  are,  for  the  most  part,  envious,  jealous, 
suspicious,  crafty,  and  scheming,  what  would  they 
do  with  their  produce  if  the  people  of  the  cities, 
whom  they  incessantly  berail,  would  not  buy  it? 
No  doubt  the  dwellers  in  the  cities  would  be  equally 
inconvenienced  if  the  country  folk  did  not  culti- 
vate the  fruits  of  the  earth  for  them.  But  what 
does  that  prove  ?  That  we  all  have  need  one  of  the 


1 66       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

other.  Is  that  any  reason  why  we  should  tear 
each  other  to  pieces  continually  ? 

Grigou's  shouts  had  been  heard  by  the  party  on 
the  grass.  M.  Barbeau  rose,  and  ran  to  the  midst 
of  the  group.  He  asked,  inquired,  allowed  no  one 
to  answer ;  but  he  easily  guessed  what  was  the  mat- 
ter when  he  saw  the  rural  guard  holding  Grigou 
by  the  collar. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Take  a  man  to 
prison  for  a  walnut  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,  it  is  —  " 

"  I  can  see  what  it  is  very  well.  Is  It  worth 
while  to  make  such  an  uproar  about  a  small  mat- 
ter like  that  ? " 

"  Oh,  when  a  —  " 

"  You  want  us  to  compensate  you,  eh  ?  Well, 
here  is  a  hundred  sous,  go  and  leave  us  in  peace." 

The  keeper  waved  away  the  five-franc  piece, 
perhaps  because  there  were  people  around  him,  and 
the  peasants  shouted, — 

"  You  must  take  him  before  the  mayor  at  Ro- 
mainville.  All  these  wicked  Parisians  come  to  rob 
us  — 

"  You  are  very  fortunate  that  the  Parisians, 
whom  you  insult,  buy  your  milk  and  your  pota- 
toes. 

"  Why,  if  they  didn't  buy  them  we  should  eat 
them,  that  is  all." 

"  Yes,  and  then  how  would  you  buy  shoes  and 
clothing  and  wine,  and  pay  your  taxes  ?  " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       167 

The  churls  had  no  answer  to  this,  but  they 
shouted  again, — 

"  Bring  him  to  the  mayor ;  bring  him  to  the 
mayor."  And  the  rural  guard,  who  was  getting 
quite  softened  at  seeing  Grigou  ready  to  cry,  put 
on  his  hat  hindside  before  and  led  off  his  prisoner. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  mayor,"  said  M.  Barbeau. 

"What?  What  is  the  matter?"  demanded 
Madame  Barbeau,  who  came  up  at  that  moment 
with  the  rest  of  the  party. 

"  Nothing  of  any  moment.  We  are  going  to 
Romainville,  before  the  mayor,  for  a  couple  of  wal- 
nuts that  Grigou  knocked  off  a  tree.  It's  rather 
an  unpleasant  joke ;  but  we  have  nothing  to  do, 
it  will  be  a  walk  for  us,  and  perhaps  we  shall  see 
a  fete  when  we  get  to  the  village." 

The  company  was  by  no  means  delighted  at  the 
prospect  of  this  walk  ;  but  as  M.  Barbeau  had 
already  gone  on  with  the  accused  and  the  witnesses, 
they  could  do  nothing  but  follow.  On  the  way 
M.  Barbeau  tried  to  prove  to  the  peasants  that 
they  were  wrong  to  arrest  a  man  on  account  of  a 
walnut,  and  thereupon  he  cited  to  them  twenty 
anecdotes  of  undoubted  veracity ;  while  Grigou 
kept  saying  in  a  low  tone, — 

"  You  are  the  cause  of  all  this  —  it  was  you 
who  —  " 

M.  Barbeau  cut  him  short  by  nudging  him  in 
the  side  with  his  elbow  and  whispered,  "  Be  silent, 
you  are  injuring  your  case." 


i68        A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

They  reached  the  village  of  Romainville,  where 
there  was  no  more  appearance  of  a  fete  than  at 
Belleville.  They  went  to  the  mayor's  house,  es- 
corted by  all  the  children  in  the  place,  these,  added 
to  the  peasants  who  were  conducting  Grigou,  and 
the  rest  of  our  party,  made  a  very  nice  little  pro- 
cession, of  which  M.  Barbeau  looked  like  the 
leader.  He  walked  proudly  with  his  head  up,  pero- 
rating as  he  went  along  ;  he  had  frightened  the 
rural  guard,  who  began  to  be  afraid  he  had  made 
a  blunder,  and  even  the  peasants  thought  that  a 
man  who  talked  so  much  must  end  in  being  in  the 
right.  In  fact,  any  one  would  have  sworn  it  was 
M.  Barbeau  who  had  had  Grigou  arrested.  They 
reached  the  mayor's  house  ;  he  was  not  at  home, 
he  was  at  the  town  hall. 

"  Come  to  the  town  hall,"  cried  Barbeau.  But 
as  Madame  Barbeau  and  her  children  were  weary, 
the  family  seated  itself  on  a  stone  bench  with 
M.  Bellefeuille,  who  prepared  to  sketch  the  en- 
trance to  a  milk  house. 

They  reached  the  town  hall ;  the  mayor  was  not 
there.  A  neighbor  informed  them  that  he  had 
gone  to  Father  Antoine's,  where  there  was  a  dis- 
pute between  some  of  the  drinkers. 

The  rural  guard  and  the  peasants  looked  at  each 
other  undecidedly,  it  was  easy  to  be  seen  that  they 
were  tired  of  walking  about  with  their  prisoner, 
and  that,  with  some  conciliatory  words  and  a  few 
glasses  of  wine,  all  might  be  amicably  settled.    But 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       169 

Barbeau  would  not  understand  this ;  without  lis- 
tening to  Grigou,  who  pulled  him  by  his  coat,  he 
cried, — 

"  Come  to  Father  Antoine's.  We  must  see  the 
mayor.  I  shall  be  pleased  to  see  him.  They  would 
arrest  this  gentleman,  and  we  must  have  justice." 

"  Why,"  said  Grigou,  in  a  low  tone  "  as  they 
seem  kindly  disposed  now — " 

"  That's  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  come  to  Father 
Antoine's;  I  will  not  be  walked  about  like  this 
for  nothing!    This  cannot  be  passed  off  like  this." 

They  arrived  at  Father  Antoine's,  who  sold 
cakes,  bacon,  and  wine.  The  mayor  had  left,  the 
quarrel  being  ended.  Mother  Antoine  believed  he 
had  gone  back  to  the  town  hall  to  give  judgment 
in  the  matter  of  Jean-Marie  and  Gaspard,  who  had 
a  well  in  common,  and  who  never  could  agree  as 
to  whose  turn  it  was  to  supply  a  new  rope. 

"Then  we'll  go  back  to  the  town  hall,"  said 
M.  Barbeau.  But  the  rural  guard,  who  was 
accustomed  to  rest  and  drink  at  Father  Antoine's, 
had  already  taken  his  seat  at  a  table ;  the  peasants 
did  the  same,  saying, — 

"  Oh,  well,  there's  nothin*  to  do  but  let  the 
gentleman  go ;  he  won't  take  the  walnuts  again. 
We've  had  enough  walking  for  to-day.  That's  so, 
ain't  it,  keeper  ? " 

The  keeper  answered,  as  he  poured  out  some 
wine,  "Yes  —  we've  had  enough  of  it  —  for  this 
time. 


lyo       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

Grigou  was  delighted,  he  was  about  to  thank 
everybody,  when  Barbeau  came  between  him  and 
the  guard  saying, — 

"  I  don't  understand  this  at  all,  gentlemen,  you 
cannot  arrest  a  man  for  nothing.  I  want  to  return 
to  the  town  hall." 

At  these  words  Grigou  became  purple  with 
anger ;  he  exclaimed  in  his  turn, — 

"Hang  it,  M.  Barbeau,  that  is  too  much! 
When  this  unhappy  business  is  settled,  when  these 
gentlemen  are  willing  to  forget  my  heedlessness, 
you  must  drag  me  to  the  mayor,  forsooth !  " 

"Yes,  monsieur;  because  I  like  things  to  be  done 
regularly,  because  I  detest  arbitrariness  and  —  " 

"  Go  to  the  devil  with  your  arbitrariness  !  It 
was  you  who  told  me  to  thwack  down  the  walnuts." 

"  And  what  does  that  prove  ?  " 

"That  you  get  people  into  scrapes  and  leave 
them  there." 

"  You  see  well  that  I'm  getting  you  out  of  it." 

"  You  are  a  pigheaded,  obstinate  fellow  !  " 

"And  you  are  an  idiot !  " 

The  dispute  between  them  grew  so  warm  that 
the  guard  and  the  peasants  were  obliged  to  inter- 
pose between  the  two  friends.  At  length  their 
spirits  quieted  down.  Barbeau  seated  himself  be- 
side the  guard,  ordered  wine,  and  paid  for  every- 
body. Grigou  treated  to  some  cakes  with  strong 
butter.  They  ate  and  drank  and  became  good 
friends. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       171 

While  talking  and  drinking,  M.  Barbeau  said 
to  the  peasants, — 

"  Where  are  they  holding  the  fete  ?  " 

"The  fete?  why  there's  no  fete  at  Romainville, 
today ! " 

"There's  no  fete  at  Romainville?  The  devil ! 
that  is  what  we  came  here  for,  however." 

"  There's  a  fete  at  Bagnolet." 

"  Ah,  that's  lucky  !  we'll  go  and  see  the  fete  at 
Bagnolet  —  it's  not  very  far,  I  think?" 

"  No,  a  short  quarter  of  a  league.  Go  down 
the  highway  as  far  as  a  road  on  the  left  and  you 
are  there." 

"  Come,  Grigoq,  a  last  cup,  and  we'll  be  off; 
our  party  are  waiting  for  us  on  a  stone  bench. 
Good-by,  my  good  fellows  ;  your  good  health  !  I 
bear  you  no  grudge." 

M.  Barbeau  and  Grigou  at  length  left  Father 
Antoine's,  and  the  retired  publisher  said  to  his 
friend, — 

"You  see  everything  came  out  well,  I  was  very 
calm." 

"  It's  not  your  fault  it  didn't  turn  out  worse.** 

"  Let  it  drop  !  you  didn't  understand  my  tac- 
tics ;  if  I  had  looked  like  a  blubberer,  as  you  did, 
we  should  still  be  their  prisoners  !  " 

They  rejoined  the  party.  Bellefeuille  had  had 
time  to  sketch  three  cows  and  all  the  courtyard. 

"We  are  going  to  Bagnolet,"  cried  M.  Barbeau 
as  soon  as  he  came  within  hailing  distance  of  his 


172       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

wife.  "It's  a  charming  village,  not  two  steps  off 
and  all  down  hill." 

"To  Bagnolet!"  said  Madame  Barbeau;  "why, 
what  are  you  thinking  of,  monsieur?  It's  getting 
dark." 

"  What  does  that  matter  to  us  ?  I  think,  dearest, 
you  need  not  be  afraid  with  me." 

"  But  we  are  very  tired." 

"  It's  all  going  down  hill,  I  tell  you." 

"  We  are  dying  of  hunger."  I 

"  We  will  dine  at  Bagnolet." 

No  one  replied,  and  they  set  out  on  their  way 
and  arrived  at  the  entrance  to  Bagnolet  at  night- 
fall. This  charming  village  is  composed  of  but 
one  narrow  street  and  that  nearly  as  long  as  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Martin.  As  they  advanced  they 
heard  a  hubbub  which  seemed  to  be  increasing, 
they  could  not  distinguish  if  it  was  laughter,  cries, 
or  songs,  but  it  was  going  on  continually. 

"Good  enough!  one  can  tell  there's  a  fete  here," 
said  Barbeau ;  "do  you  hear  those  jolly  fellows,  how 
they  are  amusing  themselves  ? " 

"I  don't  know  if  they  are  amusing  themselves," 
responded  Madame  Barbeau ;  "  but  that  noise 
frightens  me.    One  would  say  they  were  fighting." 

"  It  frightens  me  too,"  said  Nonore,  pressing 
against  her  mother. 

"If  they  are  fighting,"  said  Grigou,  "  I  should 
like  it  quite  as  well  if  we  did  not  see  the  fete." 

"  Come,  now,  you  are  dreaming.      Laughing, 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      173 

dancing,  does  that  frighten  you?  Come  along, 
I'll  be  responsible  for  everything." 

They  reached  the  square  of  the  place,  where  the 
festival  was  in  progress.  This  square  was  large, 
like  that  of  the  Chevalier-du-Guet  in  Paris.  In 
a  little  corner,  that  had  been  sanded  and  roped  off, 
two  violins  and  a  tambourine  made  music  for  the 
youth  of  the  place  to  dance  to.  Opposite  the  en- 
closure were  two  trucks  on  wheels,  one  containing 
gingerbread,  the  other  sausages.  The  whole  was 
lighted  with  lanterns  placed  on  the  ground  and 
candles  surrounded  with  paper. 

At  the  moment  the  party  arrived,  a  scuffle  was 
taking  place  between  the  peasants,  of  whom  the 
greater  part  were  tipsy.  The  countrywomen  had 
immediately  sought  refuge  in  another  direction, 
from  whence  they  looked  on  at  the  gentlemen 
fighting.  But  at  last  the  dispute  was  settled,  the 
ladies  came  back,  the  men  took  their  partners  and 
resumed  the  dance  they  had  left. 

"You  can  see  they  are  enjoying  themselves 
here,"  said  M.  Barbeau.  "  They  make  some  noise, 
it  is  true,  because  peasants  have  not  the  habit  of 
speaking  gently." 

"This,  then,  is  what  they  call  a  fete  cham- 
petre  ?  "  said  Grigou. 

"  Wait  a  bit,  we  haven't  seen  everything  yet. 
But  first  of  all  we  must  look  for  an  eating-house." 

They  sought,  they  looked  everywhere,  but  there 
was  no  more  of  an  eating-house  at  Bagnolet  than 


174       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

there  was  a  fete  at  Romainvillc.  They  discovered, 
however,  a  small  public  house  over  the  door  of 
which  was  written,  "  Rustic  garden  and  landscape." 

"  Do  you  understand  what  that  means  ?  "  asked 
M.  Barbeau  of  the  painter. 

"  By  Jove,  no  !  " 

"  Nor  I ;  but  all  the  same  we  will  go  in  here,  and 
we'll  ask.  for  a  *  landscape  *  where  we  can  get  some- 
thing to  eat." 

They  entered  the  drinking-shop  but  could  not 
stay  in  the  room,  for  the  smell  of  ale  made  them 
ill ;  they  passed  into  the  rustic  garden  behind  the 
house,  and  there  the  wine  merchant  asserted  that 
they  saw  a  landscape,  for  he  had  pasted  on  the 
wall  at  the  bottom  of  his  garden  some  paper  at 
thirteen  sous  a  roll,  on  which  were  printed  canaries 
and  paroquets. 

The  party,  who  were  famished  with  hunger, 
stopped  at  a  table  which  stood  in  front  of  the 
"  landscape  "  and  asked  what  they  could  have  for 
dinner.  There  was  nothing  for  them  but  some 
lightly  salted  pork  and  some  fresh  eggs,  everything 
else  had  been  devoured  by  the  peasants  who  had 
come  to  the  fete.  This  repast,  washed  down  by 
Bagnolet  wine,  seemed  very  rustic  indeed  to  the 
Parisians.  They  hastily  despatched  it,  and  left  the 
"  landscape." 

The  ball  was  in  full  progress  and  after  cramming 
the  party  with  gingerbread  by  way  of  dessert, 
M.  Barbeau  positively  wanted  to  make  them  dance. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      175 

He  drew  his  wife  along  in  spite  of  her  resistance, 
Bellefeuille  took  Nonore's  hand, —  and  there  they 
were  in  the  sanded  enclosure.  The  orchestra  started, 
the  peasants  had  started  before  ;  the  dance  was  ex- 
ceedingly lively,  when  suddenly  some  other  peas- 
ants came  up,  looking  furious,  and  shouted  to  those 
who  were  cutting  their  capers,  "  We  told  you  not 
to  dance  with  our  wives ! "  and  without  awaiting 
an  answer  they  punched  the  dancers  right  and  left. 
The  latter  replied  in  kind,  all  the  countrymen  at 
the  fete  came  running  to  take  part  with  one  side 
or  the  other,  and  the  combat  became  general.  The 
women  fled,  shrieking,  the  children  howled,  but 
the  vioHns  could  still  be  heard  above  the  din.  In 
the  midst  of  the  confusion  caused  by  the  sudden 
onset  of  the  peasants,  and  the  rain  of  blows  they 
were  showering  on  each  other,  Madame  Barbeau 
had  lost  her  husband  and  her  daughter  had  been 
separated  from  her  partner,  and  they  had  some 
trouble  in  leaving  the  enclosure.  They  called  the 
husband  and  father,  but  their  voices  were  lost  in 
those  of  the  peasants  who  were  shouting  to  separate 
the  combatants.  At  the  corner  of  the  square  these 
ladies  came  upon  Grigou,who  hadjust  been  picked 
up  by  two  men,  and  on  whom  four  peasants  had 
been  fighting  furiously  for  five  minutes.  Grigou 
was  completely  knocked  up  ;  but  he  found  enough 
strength  to  leave  the  fete  and  the  village.  Then 
M.  Bellefeuille  appeared,  he  had  lost  his  hat,  but 
he  had  found  little  Alexandre  and  brought  him  to 


176       A  COUNTRY  EXCURSION 

his  mother.  Only  M.  Barbcau  was  missing,  without 
whom  they  could  not  leave  Bagnolet ;  he  came  at 
length  without  a  necktie,  with  his  collar  torn,  but 
still  in  a  good-humor. 

"  Oh,  the  madmen,  how  they  arc  going  it ! "  cried 
he,  as  he  rejoined  his  wife. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  where  have  you  been  ?  I  was 
very  uneasy." 

"  I  have  been  fighting." 

"With  whom?" 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea ;  but,  by  Jove  !  every- 
body was  fighting,  and  I  did  like  the  others,  I  tried 
a  round  with  two  or  three  of  them,  and  then  they 
made  way  for  me." 

"  Good  heavens !  what  a  country  excursion." 

"  Do  you  want  to  leave  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  and  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"  Well,  let's  get  on  the  way  then.  But  I  don't 
promise  you  we  shall  find  a  carriage  at  the  barriere." 

"  Ah,  M.  Barbeau,"  groaned  Grigou,  "  you'll 
never  again  get  me  to  a  festival  in  the  outskirts  of 
Paris." 


THE  SLIDES  OF  A  MAGIC  LANTERN 

Attention,  messieurs  and  mesdames,  we  have 
the  honor  to  present  to  you  first  the  picture  of  a 
country  festival  in  the  outskirts  of  Paris. 

The  fete  is  at  Loges,  near  Saint-Germain ;  this 
fete  being  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  select, 
because,  being  farther  from  the  capital  than  Saint- 
Cloud,  Vincennes,  Pantin  and  other  places,  the 
simple  bourgeois  of  Paris  cannot  go  there  afoot, 
carrying  a  pasty  in  a  napkin  and  a  fine  melon 
under  his  arm.  To  go  to  Loges  one  must  have  a 
carriage  ;  every  one  cannot  afford  that. 

See  this  line  of  landaus,  caleches,  tilburys.  The 
company  would  be  select  if  all  these  vehicles  be- 
longed to  the  ones  who  came  in  them. 

Let  us  go  a  little  deeper  into  the  wood  ;  but  we 
must  be  careful  not  to  fall  over  the  roasts  which 
have  been  placed  here  and  there  in  these  cooking- 
pots  on  the  grass.  The  welkin  rings  with  the  joy- 
ful shouts  of  the  peasants  and  the  gay  laughter  of 
the  citizens.  On  all  sides  are  people  laughing, 
dancing,  or  eating.  These  hastily  prepared  tents 
belong  to  travelling  restaurateurs ;  you  may  see 
pyramids  of  partridges,  pigeons,  and  sausages  ;  that 
which  you  would  care  nothing  for  in  the  city  seems 

Vol.  XX        177 


178      SLIDES  FROM  A  LANTERN 

delightful  to  you  in  the  country  ;  these  fine  ladies, 
even,  do  not  disdain  a  piece  of  veal  cooked  on  the 
grass  and  often  seasoned  with  dust. 

But  see  on  the  right  what  a  brilliant  ball,  this  is 
for  the  fashionable  people ;  the  villagers  are  not 
admitted  there.  They  are  dancing,  though  they 
do  not  look  as  though  they  were ;  but  it  is  good 
form  now  to  dance  as  though  one  were  not  dan- 
cing; on  the  other  hand,  they  look  languishing 
and  put  on  finical  airs,  they  whisper  in  their  part- 
ner's ears,  or  squeeze  her  hand  very  delicately. 

Look  to  the  left ;  that  is  a  village  ball  and  is 
distinctly  opposed  to  the  other ;  the  peasant  men 
see  who  can  jump  highest,  the  peasant  women 
shake  and  joggle  ;  if  they  don't  keep  time  to  the 
music,  at  least  it  is  easy  to  be  seen  they  are  dan- 
cing. The  first  is  the  polite  ball,  the  second  is  the 
natural.     Let  us  pass  to  another  picture. 

I  have  the  honor  to  present  to  you  the  studio 
of  a  celebrated  painter.  If  you  would  like  to  see 
a  picture  of  the  most  unstudied  and  admired  dis- 
order examine  the  interior  of  this  studio,  while  the 
artist,  giving  full  scope  to  his  genius,  finishes  a  his- 
torical picture  which  must  still  further  augment 
his  reputation. 

Look  at  this  table  placed  to  the  right,  on  which 
are  the  remains  of  a  breakfast ;  lest  this  disorder 
frighten  you,  remember  that  it  was  to  the  confu- 
sion of  tongues  of  the  builders  of  the  tower  of 
Babel  that  we  owe  the  birth  of  divers  idioms,  and 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       179 

remember  also  that  in  the  midst  of  contrasts  one 
often  finds  lessons  of  philosophy.    This  table  will, 
furnish  several.  ]\^,^ 

See  this  colored  bottle,  and  this  flask  which  came 
from  a  fashionable  woman's  bag ;  the  head  of  the 
Venus  de  Medici  on  a  piece  of  cheese ;  the  mod- 
el's dirty,  crumpled  bonnet  covering  the  head  of 
a  Roman  emperor ;  some  ham  in  a  Greek  helmet ; 
three  finger-joint  bones  on  a  penny  roll ;  a  Diana's 
foot  on  the  thighbone  of  an  Antinous ;  a  bottle  of 
oil  on  a  silk  handkerchief;  some  vermilion  on  a 
Death's  head  ;  some  cigars  wrapped  up  in  a  Greek 
tunic,  and  a  volume  of  Beranger's  songs  on  the 
Holy  Bible.  .;,;,,;     .;- 

This  table  shows  us  the  nothingness  of  human 
grandeur.  It  is  with  men  as  with  things.  A  time 
will  come  when  we  shall  find  ourselves  placed  near 
a  being  to  whom  we  were  utter  strangers. 

But  forgive  me,  messieurs  and  mesdames,  I  for- 
get sometimes  that  I  ought  to  show  you  the  magic 
lantern  and  not  point  morals  for  you.  My  love 
of  talking  leads  me  astray  sometimes.  Let  us  pass 
to  another  picture. 

See  this  enchanting  scene,  embellished  by  nature; 
how  green  are  these  trees,  how  flowery  these  meads, 
how  transparent  these  waters,  and  how  blue  these 
skies  ;  it  is  the  "  interior  of  the  moon  "  taken  from 
the  Pont  des  Arts.  This  is  an  exactly  correct  rep- 
resentation ;  the  artist  with  a  telescope,  which  car- 
ried him  to  this  place,  was  able  to  distinguish  the 


i8o     SLIDES  FROM  A  LANTERN 

inhabitants  of  the  moon  so  clearly  that  he  per- 
ceived even  those  who  had  gone  down  to  their 
cellars,  for  they  have  cellars  in  the  moon  and  they 
drink  wine  there  made  from  seedless  grapes  which 
are  very  common  in  that  country.  The  fare  there 
is  very  good,  people  live  well  there  and  the  luna- 
tics are  very  plump.  There  are  many  very  agree- 
able things  in  this  country.  It  is  daylight  there 
forty-eight  hours  at  a  time  and  the  evenings  are 
very  short;  this  is  no  doubt  why  they  have  not 
yet  introduced  lighting  by  gas.  The  houses  are  as 
high  as  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame,  and  the  small- 
est trees  are  higher  than  the  houses.  But  you 
wish  perhaps  to  know  something  of  the  customs 
of  the  inhabitants ;  let  us  examine  the  details  of 
the  picture. 

Notice  this  young  girl  at  the  window  of  this 
house ;  her  looks  are  constantly  turned  towards  the 
same  point.  First  of  all  her  face  expresses  pleasure; 
it  shines  in  her  eyes,  a  vivid  carnation  colors  her 
cheeks  and  she  passes  her  pretty  little  fingers 
through  her  ringlets  in  order  to  repair  the  havoc 
the  wind  has  made  in  her  tresses.  She  is  singing 
in  a  low  tone,  and  smiling  as  she  looks  at  the  road 
by  which  the  one  she  is  waiting  for  will  come. 
But  for  some  moments  she  has  not  sung.  Her 
hair  floats  in  abandonment  the  color  has  fled  from 
her  cheeks;  her  eyes  express  fear,  uneasiness,  the 
falHng  and  rising  of  her  breast  is  quickened,  her 
heart  palpitates;  he  comes  not,  although  the  hour 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       i8i 

he  had  appointed  is  long  past.  A  thousand 
thoughts  agitate  her ;  a  thousand  suspicions  are 
presented  to  her  mind.  Where  is  he  ?  What  is  he 
doing  now  ?  Thus  terminate  all  her  conjectures. 
How  painful  is  suspense!  Each  moment  is  more 
than  a  century  and  the  imagination  augments  the 
suffering  of  the  heart.  Perhaps  he  is  with  a  rival ; 
he  has  made  her  the  sweetest  vows,  he  has  lavished 
the  tenderest  caresses  upon  her.  Poor  little  thing. 
Her  tears  are  already  falling.  Why,  what  sudden 
change  is  this  ^  Why  this  joyful  expression  even 
in  the  midst  of  her  tears  ?  and  this  sweet  blush 
which  colors  her  charming  face  ?  She  smiles  with 
delight,  for  she  sees  him;  she  would  like  to  scold 
him  for  that  hour  of  suspense ;  but  her  heart  will 
not  allow  her,  past  evil  is  but  a  bad  dream.  In  love 
a  moment's  happiness  causes  one  to  forget  a  cen- 
tury of  pain. 

Now  you  see,  ladies,  how  women  love  in  the 
moon;  it  is  for  you  to  say  whether  you  experience 
the  same  torments  and  fears  when  you  are  expect- 
ing the  one  you  love. 

But  let  us  penetrate  into  this  boudoir.  What 
ails  this  young  woman  ?  She  is  sad,  she  sighs,  she 
is  grieved.  Has  her  husband  been  unfaithful  ? 
No,  her  husband  does  not  trouble  her.  Is  her 
cashmere  shawl  less  handsome  than  her  friend's  ? 
Has  some  one  neglected  to  invite  her  to  dance  at 
the  last  ball?  It  is  much  worse  than  that;  she 
has  found  a  white  hair.     A  white  hair !  and  she  is 


1 82      SLIDES  FROM  A  LANTERN 

only  twenty-nine!  In  vain  her  maid  has  assured 
her  it  was  only  a  light-colored  one.  "  No,  no ! "  she 
exclaims,  "  It  is  white,  I  am  sure  of  it.  White  hairs 
at  twenty-nine!  Why,  it  is  cruel,  it's  frightful.  I 
am  already  growing  old,  then.  What  times  we  are 
living  in.  But  there  is  Madame  Valmont,  whose 
hair  is  as  black  as  ebony  at  forty-live.  She  has 
it  dyed,  perhaps." 

"  Madame,"  said  her  lady's  maid,  "  Made- 
moiselle Isaure,  who  is  only  twenty-five  is  obliged 
to  wear  a  front,  oh,  there  are  other  things  beside 
age  that  whiten  the  hair." 

This  speech  consoled  the  young  woman  a  little. 
So  you  see,  mesdames,  that  in  the  moon  white 
hairs  alarm  beauty ;  to  whom,  however,  they  im- 
part a  venerable  appearance.  But  ladies  do  not 
care  so  much  about  being  respected ;  they  want  to 
be  loved  and  admired.  It  is  the  ladies  in  the 
moon  of  whom  I  speak. 

Let  us  now  give  a  little  attention  to  the  gentle- 
men; who  is  this  stout  gentleman,  walking  about 
this  beautiful  garden,  with  an  air  of  importance  that 
is  altogether  comical  ?  This  is  M.  Jonas,  who,  at 
forty  years  of  age,  said  to  himself, — 

"It  is  very  singular,  I  have  mental  ability, 
means,  and  good  personal  appearance,  and  yet 
I  succeed  in  nothing ;  I  fail  in  every  business  that  I 
undertake.  I  have  no  friends,  nobody  pays  any 
attention  to  me.  I  must  marry  a  pretty  woman, 
that  will  give  me  importance  in  society." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      183 

In  fact,  M.  Jonas  did  marry;  his  wife  is  cheer- 
ful, lively,  agreeable ;  she  is  passionately  fond  of 
music  and  dancing,  and  M.  Jonas*  house  has  be- 
come the  haunt  of  young  men  of  fashion.  The 
dear  husband  has  more  friends  than  he  can  count. 

But  look  on  this  side,  you  will  see  fatuous  fel- 
lows who  give  decided  opinions  on  things  they  do 
not  understand ;  you  will  see  men  of  talent — 
modest,  retiring,  seek  their  pleasure  in  study,  the 
arts,  and  friendship.  Over  there  are  some  stout 
men,  made  of  money,  liberal  entertainers  ;  they  give 
magnificent  dinners,  the  cost  of  one  of  which  would 
feed  ten  poor  families.  Here  you  see  men  glutted 
with  wealth  who  yet  seek  more ;  who  keep  their 
eyes  incessantly  on  those  in  power,  praising  to-day 
those  they  depreciated  yesterday,  and  disparaging 
to-morrow  those  whom  they  praise  to-day,  accord- 
ing as  it  serves  their  cupidity  and  their  unworthy 
ambition.  Look  again  ;  you  will  see  men  of  let- 
ters envious  of  their  fellows,  fools  puffed  up  with 
vanity,  moralists  devoid  of  honor,  hypocrites  in 
favor,  rigorists  devoid  of  probity,  Catos  devoid  of 
humanity,  censors  devoid  of  virtue. 

But  in  order  to  see  all  these  fine  things  is  it 
necessary  to  look  into  the  moon?  Let  us  descend 
to  earth,  messieurs  and  mesdames,  and  pass  to 
another  picture.  ,      ,_ 


THE  GRISETTES 

There  are  among  them  many  who  are  pretty, 
comical,  provoking,  giddy,  sentimental,  honest  and 
even  virtuous.  And  why  not?  Moliere  said: 
"  Where  virtue  takes  up  her  abode."  Why  she 
necessarily  must  take  refuge  somewhere;  and  she 
is  more  often  found  in  some  humble  room  under 
the  eaves  than  in  sumptuous  boudoirs.  When  vir- 
tue is  one's  only  possession,  one  naturally  tries  to 
keep  it. 

Since  people  have  become  more  enlightened  and 
information  more  general,  we  have  far  fewer  gri- 
settes,  in  the  full  sense  of  that  term,  than  were  for- 
merly counted  in  Paris.  The  porter's  daughter  goes 
to  boarding-school ;  they  give  her  masters  to  teach 
her  accomplishments.  She  has,  or  thinks  she  has, 
some  talent  for  the  stage,  and  forthwith  she  enters 
the  Conservatoire.  If  she  has  no  talent  and  is 
pleasing,  she  will  find  a  protector  who  will  place 
her  in  a  little  home  of  her  own.  She  would  have 
been  a  grisette  pure  and  simple  perhaps,  but  now 
she  assumes  fine  airs  and  attire  and  ornaments 
which  are  very  unbecoming  indeed. 

There  is  nothing  worse  in  the  world  than  an 
equivocal  position  ;  have  the  question  settled,  that 

1S4 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       185 

those  about  you  may  know  exactly  how  you  stand. 
A  kept  woman  should  try  to  obtain  a  carriage  and 
diamonds,  people  will  blame  her  less  if  she  makes 
her  fortune  ;  if  she  seeks  pleasure  only,  let  her  re- 
main a  grisette  ;  she  may  be  less  constrained  in 
her  behavior,  less  stiffly  corseted,  less  pretentious 
in  her  discourse.  She  need  not  fear  that  she  will 
compromise  herself  by  going  to  the  pit  of  the 
Gaite,  where  she  may  give  way  freely  to  her  emo- 
tions, laughing  or  weeping  according  as  the  tyrant 
is  barbarous,  the  princess  unhappy,  or  the  simple- 
ton funny ;  she  can  enter  into  conversation  with 
her  neighbor  if  he  is  pleasing,  and  if  she  likes  she 
may  allow  him,  during  the  entertainment,  to  snuggle 
very  close  to  her,  which  will  augment  the  pleasur- 
able emotions  called  forth  by  the  play.  Between 
the  acts,  if  she  is  hungry  (and  she  will  be  hungry, 
for  a  grisette  is  always  ready  to  take  refreshments), 
she  will  go  out  and  procure  apples  and  cakes  which 
she  will  eat  during  the  course  of  the  evening.  Can 
you  not  imagine  how  thoroughly  she  enjoys  her 
treat  ?  She  is  at  the  theatre,  where  she  makes  her- 
self quite  at  home  ;  the  grisette  takes  off  her  cap 
and  her  comb  when  they  feel  uncomfortable.  She 
laughs  or  cries  if  she  desires  to  do  either ;  she  lis- 
tens to  the  proposal  of  a  young  man  who  is  already 
ardently  in  love  with  her ;  he  gives  her  little  taps 
on  the  knee,  which  she  gently  repulses  —  or  does 
not  repulse.  In  fact,  she  goes  out  between  the 
acts  if  it  is  her  fancy  to  do  so,  and  eats  cakes  as 


1 86  THE  GRISETTES    H  ) 

she  listens  to  the  "  Bouquetiere  des  Champs 
Elysees  "  or  trembles  at  the  "  Sonneur  de  Saint- 
Paul."  Why,  all  this  is  worth  more  than  a  cash- 
mere shawl  and  a  toque  with  feathers. 

Generally  speaking,  those  who  are  called  gris- 
ettes  are  work-women ;  a  girl,  however,  may  be  a 
work-woman  and  not  come  under  this  designation. 
I  no  longer  recognize  as  a  grisette  the  steady, 
economical,  working-girl,  who  goes  straight  from 
her  shop  to  her  mother,  and  who  does  not  go  out 
on  Sundays  except  with  her  parents. 

The  grisette  loves  independence  ;  she  has  her 
room,  her  own  "  little  place  "  ;  she  is  virtuous  so 
long  as  she  has  not  met  the  handsome  or  pleasing 
young  man  her  imagination  has  created ;  she  is 
honest  as  long  as  she  remains  faithful  to  her  lover. 
But  she  does  not  want  him  to  play  her  any  tricks, 
for  then  she  will  revenge  herself,  and  once  set  going 
there  is  no  stopping  her. 

Very  often,  in  Paris,  two  grisettes  live  together. 
A  single  room  suffices  them,  there  is  always  space 
enough  in  it  for  all  the  furniture  they  possess,  and 
they  pay  the  rent  between  them  ;  it  is  economical, 
and  it  is  necessary  for  grisettes  to  be  economical ; 
we  must  not  confound  them  with  kept  women. 

If  you  have  had  no  relations  with  these  dam- 
sels, you  have  not  penetrated  into  their  dwellings, 
which  are,  however,  scarcely  worth  being  seen. 
A  room  occupied  by  two  grisettes  is  a  curious  and 
interesting  sight  for  an  observer.   In  the  first  place. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       187 

order  is  not,  generally  speaking,  one  of  their  habit- 
ual qualities.  Then  they  leave  very  early  to  go 
to  their  shop  and  in  the  evening  have  a  good  deal 
to  think  of. 

Picture  to  yourself  a  small  room  decorated  with 
paper  at  thirteen  sous  a  roll,  a  great  part  of  which 
is  torn  off  or  hanging  from  the  walls ;  no  curtain 
to  the  window,  but  a  cord  stretched  across  it  on 
which  hangs  a  petticoat  or  a  chemise  and  some 
stockings,  drying. 

A  couch,  sometimes  a  bed  with  a  sacking  bot- 
tom, also  devoid  of  curtains,  a  bolster,  but  seldom 
any  pillows,  which  are  luxuries ;  a  little  walnut 
table,  of  which  the  drawer  will  neither  open  nor 
shut,  into  which  has  been  thrust,  however,  a  comb, 
some  pewter  covers,  a  box  of  nightlights,  some 
letter  paper,  pens,  salt,  pepper,  some  strips  of 
embroidery,  old  gloves,  knives,  pomatum,  tooth- 
ache cure,  a  shoe  brush,  some  corset  patterns,  some 
English  blacking  and  some  burned  almonds. 

Four  chairs  with  the  seats  entirely  out,  another 
with  a  broken  leg,  and  the  other  without  a  back. 
Sometimes  there  is  a  commode,  but  then  the  draw- 
ers will  not  lock  ;  it  is  not  a  piece  of  furniture  that 
inspires  confidence.  Ordinarily  the  two  little  draw- 
ers on  top  are  full  of  rags  and  crusts  of  stale  bread  ; 
there  is  a  gown  and  two  handkerchiefs  in  the  one 
below ;  the  two  others  are  empty. 

The  fireplace  is  always  the  best  furnished  spot 
in  the  room ;  on  the  hearth  are  cooking  utensils, 


i88  THE  GRISETTES 

a  Dutch  oven,  water-boiler,  stewpan,  tin  sauce- 
pan, three  or  four  chipped  plates,  all  heaped 
together  in  a  corner  near  two  fire-brands  which 
they  sometimes  blow  into  life,  but  which  they 
never  consume. 

On  the  mantelpiece  are  the  ornaments.  A  little 
mirror  that  shakes  in  its  frame  ;  two  glasses  which 
do  not  match,  a  candelabra,  a  flat  candlestick,  some 
matches  and  also  a  flint,  and  two  blue  drinking- 
glasses  filled  with  flowers  ;  this  latter  is  seldom 
missing,  for  grisettes  love  flowers  and  do  not  stick 
to  the  rarest  kinds  ;  provided  they  have  a  stock 
and  some  mignonette  they  are  satisfied ;  they  thrust 
the  bouquets  into  their  drinking-glasses,  for  they 
must  last  for  the  whole  week,  and  they  smell  good 
even  then. 

Then  there  are  several  novels  and  some  plays 
lying  on  the  chairs,  the  bed,  or  the  commode  ; 
there  are  one  or  two  pairs  of  old  shoes  thrown 
negligently  here  and  there,  an  old  skirt,  a  night- 
cap, a  fichu,  are  littered  at  random  on  the  furni- 
ture ;  some  remnants  of  bread  and  cheese  adorn 
the  table  and  some  torn  curl-papers  are  scattered 
on  the  floor.  A  cat  prowls  about  in  the  midst  of 
all  this,  sometimes  sleeping  on  the  hearth,  some- 
times on  the  bed,  playing  with  a  book  or  with  the 
piece  of  cheese  ;  the  cat  seems  to  be  almost  the 
master  of  the  house. 

Don't  imagine  that  this  poorly  furnished  room 
is  a  gloomy  place  ;  in  the  morning  they  sing  as 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       189 

soon  as  they  open  their  eyes.  The  first  to  awaken 
pokes  the  other  so  she  can  no  longer  sleep  ;  the 
latter  mutters  and  scolds,  saying,  "  Why  don't  you 
let  me  sleep  ?  what's  the  matter  with  you?" 

The  other  passes  a  feather  over  the  sleeper's  lips, 
tickles  her  nose  with  a  match,  sings  in  her  ears, 
pushes  her,  punches  her,  and  shrieks  with  laugh- 
ter. She  absolutely  has  to  wake  up.  Then  they 
begin  to  tell  each  other  all  they  have  done  the 
evening  before. 

"  Ernest  was  very  nice  last  night ;  he  had  on  a 
black  stock  which  was  very  becoming  to  him.  Do 
you  like  black  stocks  ?  I  am  crazy  about  them, 
they  give  such  a  masculine  look  to  a  man." 

"  What  I  like  are  trousers  with  straps,  they 
show  off  a  horseman  who  is  well-made.  I  told 
Polyte  I  wished  he  had  some  for  Sundays." 

"  Say,  the  clerk  at  the  shop  opposite  followed 
me  yesterday  evening  and  spoke  to  me ;  he  in- 
sisted on  taking  me  to  dinner,  to  the  Opera.  I 
don't  know  where  he  wouldn't  have  taken  me,  if 
I  had  listened  to  him." 

"  And  you  didn't  listen  to  him  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  my  dear,  I  am  too  fond  of 
Ernest.  Goodness !  my  dear  Ernest,  how  much 
I  love  you  !  it  is  delirium  rather  than  love  !  And 
then  the  clerk  at  the  shop  opposite  is  very  ugly, 
he  squints  and  he  dresses  like  a  provincial.  Are 
you  like  me  ?  —  I  am  always  attracted  by  dress." 

"  I  wish  Polyte  would  take  me  to  Franconi's 


I90  THE  GRISETTES 

this  evening.  It's  my  favorite  place  of  amusement 
—  there  they  look  so  fine  in  their  tights." 

"  And  then  the  horses  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  look  at  the  horses.  Mercy  !  it's 
eight  o'clock  and  we  aren't  dressed  !  We  are  going 
to  have  our  dance  at  the  shop." 

"  And  they  say  there  are  some  women  fortunate 
enough  to  be  able  to  sleep  till  noon  if  they  wish, 
oh,  when  I  think  of  such  things  as  that !  Well, 
I  must  put  money  in  the  savings  bank,  if  I  want 
to  become  rich." 

"  Pshaw  !  I'm  not  ambitious.  I  only  hope  my 
gown  will  be  dry  for  Sunday.  Why,  I  can  only 
find  one  stocking  and  I  had  two  here  last  night." 

"  Perhaps  Moumoutte  has  taken  it  to  play  with." 

"  That  horrid  cat  takes  everything,  she  has  swept 
the  room  with  it ;  that's  very  amusing  I  must  say. 
Yesterday  it  was  my  collarette,  today  it  is  my  stock- 
ing. There  1  do  you  see  that  she  has  ripped  holes 
in  it  with  her  claws." 

"  It's  in  the  heel,  you  can  stuff  it  into  your  shoe. 
What  are  we  going  to  have  for  breakfast,  this 
morning  ?    Would  you  like  some  Italian  cheese  ?  " 

"Goodness!  no,  I'm  tired  of  your  Italian  cheese. 
I  should  like  to  eat  some  chocolate.  Have  you 
any  money  ? " 

"  I  have  fifteen  sous  left." 

"  We  can  buy  two  little  cakes  for  three  sous  at 
the  grocer's.  We  can  munch  it  with  a  roll ;  it  is 
very  good  for  the  stomach." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       191 

"  Let  us  hurry,  it  is  late." 

"  And  our  bed  isn't  made." 

"  So  much  the  worse,  we  shall  have  to  leave  it 
till  night." 

"  And  the  room  isn't  put  in  order." 

"  It's  good  enough  for  the  cat,  we'll  do  it  thor- 
oughly on  Sunday.  I'll  put  it  in  order  and  you 
can  scrub  it." 

And  these  damsels  went  off  humming  a  refrain 
from  the  last  new  vaudeville  at  the  Gymnase  (the 
grisettes  are  very  fond  of  the  Gymnase) ;  they 
went  to  their  shop  tripping  along  and  laughing  in 
the  faces  of  the  passers-by  if  the  latter  seemed 
comical  to  them.  Grisettes  are  essentially  mockers, 
which  does  not  prevent  them  from  being  also  com- 
passionate and  generous;  they  will  give  their  break- 
fasts and  all  they  have  in  their  pockets  to  a  poor 
woman  who  tells  them  she  has  no  bread  for  her 
children,  and  during  a  whole  week  perhaps,  instead 
of  munching  chocolate,  they  will  breakfast  on  bread 
and  water.  But  they  will  not  be  less  cheerful,  nor 
more  conceited.  What  they  forget  quickest  is  the 
good  they  do. 

Sunday  is  their  gala  day.  In  winter  they  must 
go  to  the  theatre,  in  summer  they  dance.  When 
they  have  a  lover,  he  must  necessarily  take  them 
to  a  ball  either  ^'  intra  "  or  "  extra  muros  "  ;  when 
they  have  none,  they  want  to  make  conquests  either 
to  amuse  themselves  or  to  show  off  to  their  girl 
friends.     But  the  greatest  happiness  a  grisette  can 


192  THE  GRISETTES 

experience  Is  to  make  the  conquest  of  an  actor,  for 
in  the  eyes  of  these  damsels,  an  actor  is  not  an 
ordinary  man,  a  man  like  any  other;  he  is  a  demi- 
god or  rather  a  deity  altogether,  and  a  girl  will 
excite  the  envy  of  her  companions  for  a  long  time 
should  she  be  loved  by  a  "  Jean  Shogard "  or 
"1' Homme  a  trois  usages." 

As  for  that,  if  you  have  known  two  or  three 
grisettes,  you  have  known  them  all.  There  is  very 
little  difference  between  those  who  frequent  I'Er- 
mitage  and  those  who  prefer  the  Belleville  moun- 
tain ;  between  the  young  working  girls  of  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Denis  and  those  of  the  Rue  Saint- 
Antoine.  Flirting  and  gourmandizing  are  the  two 
pivots  on  which  they  turn,  attack  their  vanity  or 
their  appetites  and  you  will  succeed  in  impressing 
them  ;  be  well-dressed  and  stuff  them  with  cakes, 
for  they  can  rarely  resist  a  young  man  who  has  kid 
gloves  and  gives  them  buns. 

Sometimes  you  will  inspire  a  very  sincere  affec- 
tion, will  be  loved  to  the  point  of  distraction,  and 
you  won't  be  able  to  get  rid  of  your  grisette.  She 
will  sell  her  effects  if  you  are  out  of  money ;  she 
will  be  willing  to  spend  Sunday  with  you  in  her 
room  when  you  cannot  take  her  to  the  play.  But 
such  cases  are  rare ;  exceptions  always  prove  the 
rule. 


THE  TWO  HUSBANDS 

"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  At  each  step  that  we  take 
along  the  highway  of  life  it  is  easy  for  us  to  feel  the 
correctness  of  these  words  of  Scripture.  Yet,  there 
are  many  incredulous  people,  who  are,  I  think, 
extremely  foolish;  and  those  who  are  poor  in  spirit, 
who  neither  doubt  the  fidelity  of  their  wives  nor 
the  devotion  of  their  friends,  are  not,  it  seems  to 
me,  so  simple  as  people  try  to  make  them  out.  And 
wherefore,  then,  should  people  be  incredulous  ? 
Did  Saint  Thomas  gain  anything  by  it?  And  how 
does  it  serve  us  to  have  immense  libraries  if  people 
wish  to  believe  neither  in  prodigies,  feats  of  strength, 
nor  in  the  miracles  of  the  good  old  times  ?  If  the 
old  chronicles  are  for  them  nothing  but  a  tissue  of 
falsehoods  ;  if  even  the  histories  of  our  first  kings 
seem  apocryphal ;  if  they  doubt  the  deluge  and 
the  rain  of  fire  which  destroyed  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah. 

According  to  the  pyrrhonists,  Xerxes  did  not 
enter  Greece  with  five  million  men,  he  had  not  con- 
quered the  sea ;  Romulus  and  Remus  were  not 
suckled  by  a  wolf;  CEdipus  did  not  kill  his  father, 
seeing  that  he  did  not  rightly  know  who  his  parents 

Vol,  XX        i9i 


194  THE  TWO  HUSBANDS 

were ;  the  Doge  of  Venice  did  not  wed  the  Adri- 
atic Sea  by  throwing  his  ring  into  its  depths; 
Sarah  was  not  "  one  hundred  years  old  "  when  she 
made  the  conquest  of  Pharaoh  of  Egypt ;  Mutius 
Scaevola  did  not,  in  the  presence  of  Porsenna,  hold 
his  arm  in  a  glowing  brazier,  his  eye  fixed  proudly 
on  the  king  of  the  Tuscans,  because  a  man  whose 
arm  was  roasting  must  involuntarily  have  made  a 
grimace  ;  Caesar's  ghost  did  not  appear  to  the  sec- 
ond Brutus ;  Constantine  the  Great  did  not  per- 
ceive the  "  Labarum  "  in  the  air,  nor  did  witches 
ever  ride  to  their  sabbaths  on  a  broom. 

I  have  two  friends,  one  of  whom  is  a  pyrrhon- 
ist,  always  refusing  to  believe  anything  unless  he 
is  furnished  with  proofs,  and,  as  a  natural  conse- 
quence, he  is  disenchanted  as  to  the  greater  part 
of  the  enjoyments  of  life,  in  which  one  must  search 
for  proofs  as  little  as  possible. 

The  other,  on  the  contrary,  believes  blindly  in 
everything;  he  believes  in  Circe's  root,  in  the  herb 
of  the  fisher  Glaucus,  in  Albert  the  Great's  hand- 
kerchief, Solomon's  ring,  in  the  golden  branch,  in 
Fortunatus'  purse,  the  philosopher's  stone,  the 
fountain  of  youth,  in  dreams,  in  cards,  in  Mathieu 
Laensbergjin  Mademoiselle  Lenormand;  in  every- 
thing, in  fact,  up  to  the  news  of  the  day. 

These  gentlemen  were  both  married,  each  had 
a  pretty  wife;  for  one,  the  beauty  was  a  positive 
fact ;  for  the  other,  it  was  a  source  of  pleasure. 
But  the  one  enjoyed  his  happiness  peaceably,  while 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      195 

the  other  did  all  he  possibly  could  to  destroy  his 
own  peace  of  mind.  But  one  day  this  is  what  hap- 
pened. 

We  were  going  to  pass  the  day  in  the  country, 
an  excursion  that  had  long  been  planned ;  but  the 
evening  before  the  wife  of  my  friend  the  pyrrho- 
nist  had  spasms,  a  sense  of  suffocation  and  low 
spirits. 

The  next  day  she  declared  herself  very  much 
indisposed,  and  could  not  possibly  leave  her  cham- 
ber ;  but  she  did  not  wish  her  husband  to  deprive 
himself  of  any  pleasure,  and  she  entreated  him  to 
repair  to  the  appointed  place. 

By  a  rather  singular  chance,  the  wife  of  my 
credulous  friend  had  felt  the  same  indisposition 
and  she  had  also  remained  at  home,  having  invited 
her  husband  to  amuse  himself  without  any  uneasi- 
ness as  to  her  health,  assuring  him  that  her  indis- 
position would  not  have  any  serious  results. 

So  here  was  I  between  my  two  married  fellows, 
one  of  whom  laughed  and  sang  with  never  a  care, 
while  the  other  grumbled  to  himself, — 

"  It  is  very  odd  that  our  wives  should  both  be 
taken  ill  exactly  at  the  same  time — Hum!  I 
hardly  believe  in  these  sudden  indispositions.  They 
perhaps  mask  some  plan." 

It  was  understood  that  we  should  go  to  Mcu- 
don,  but  hardly  were  we  in  the  coach  than  my 
pyrrhonist,  impatient  at  our  companion's  good- 
humor,  said  to  him, — 


196  THE  TWO  HUSBANDS 

"Does  it  not  seem  singular  to  you  that  your 
wife  should  be  taken  ill  on  this  very  day  that  we 
were  to  go  to  Meudon  ?  " 

"  I  see  nothing  extraordinary  in  that.  Why 
should  not  my  wife  be  ill  ?    Isn't  yours  ill  also  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  or  so  she  told  me  !  But  I  am  not 
obHged  to  believe  it." 

"  I  should  never  think  of  doubting  anything  my 
wife  told  me." 

Our  cab  was  proceeding  quietly  along ;  sud- 
denly, our  incredulous  friend  pulled  the  check- 
string,  stopped  the  coach,  opened  the  door,  and 
alighted. 

"  I  will  rejoin  you  at  Meudon,"  he  said  to  us, 
"  I  am  rather  uneasy  about  my  wife's  health,  and 
I  must  see  how  she  is." 

He  had  already  got  to  some  distance,  we  looked 
at  each  other,  my  friend  and  I  ;  finally  my  com- 
panion exclaimed, — 

"  What  he  is  doing  now  is  very  wrong  !  to  leave 
us  thus  to  return  to  his  wife,  who's  asleep  prob- 
ably, and  he'll  go  and  wake  her  up." 

I  also  thought  he  was  wrong.  No  man  who  has 
profited  by  his  knowledge  of  life  would  conduct 
himself  in  such  a  fashion. 

"  He  is  very  stupid  to  be  so  suspicious.  We 
must  revenge  ourselves  on  him." 

"  I  should  like  to  very  much ;  but  how  can  we 
doit?" 

"  He  will  come  to  find  us  at  Meudon,  and  we'll 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       197 

go  somewhere  else  ;  our  carriage  is  hired  for  the 
day,  and  we  can  be  driven  wherever  we  wish.  The 
principal  thing  is  that  this  confoundedly  jealous 
fellow  should  not  find  us." 

"  By  Jove  !  that  will  suit  me." 

**  Where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  No  matter,  provided  that  it  be  in  a  different 
direction." 

"  Well,  then,  let  us  go  to  Vincennes." 

"  Vincennes  will  do,  let's  be  off." 

The  order  was  given  to  the  cabby  ;  he  turned 
back,  and  we  were  off  for  Vincennes,  laughing 
heartily  at  the  figure  our  pyrrhonist  would  cut  in 
looking  for  us  at  Meudon. 

We  arrived  at  Vincennes,  we  went  to  breakfast 
first  of  all,  then  we  went  on  foot  to  walk  about  the 
wood. 

The  day  was  fine,  the  country  was  delightful ; 
while  we  were  walking  through  the  thickly  wooded 
paths,  my  good  friend  kept  repeating, — 

"  I  have  but  one  regret,  and  it  is  that  my  wife 
is  ill.  She  would  have  been  so  pleased  to  walk 
about  this  pretty  wood  with  us,  to  run  and  to  roll 
on  the  grass.  Poor  darling  !  We  will  carry  her 
some  macaroons,  shall  we  not  ? " 

"  We  will  carry  her  anything  that  you  like." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that  she  likes  macaroons  ;  besides, 
the  slightest  thing  gives  her  pleasure ;  she  will 
say,  *  My  Bichet  has  thought  of  me.*  She  calls  me 
her  '  Bichet.  *  " 


198  THE  TWO  HUSBANDS 

"  It's  as  good  as  any  other  name." 

We  were  talking  in  this  fashion  when,  in  turn- 
ing into  a  path,  we  found  ourselves  face  to  face  with 
a  young  couple  who  came  from  under  the  foliage. 
My  friend  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  as 
he  recognized  his  wife  and  her  cousin. 

The  young  lady  seemed  stunned  for  a  moment, 
but  she  immediately  pulled  herself  together  and 
exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,  messieurs  !  We  have  been 
looking  for  you  for  an  hour,  my  cousin  and  I. 
I  had  said  to  my  husband  that  I  was  sick,  but  that 
was  that  I  might  surprise  you.  You  did  not  ex- 
pect to  meet  me,  did  you  ? " 

"  By  Jove,  no !  but  how  have  you  guessed  that 
we  were  at  Vincennes  ?  We  should  have  gone  to 
Meudon." 

*'  Did  I  not  follow  you  with  my  cousin,  and 
when  your  carriage  turned  we  also  turned  our  cab- 
riolet ;  and  while  you  were  breakfasting  —  for  you 
breakfasted,  I  wager?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Well,  it  was  while  you  were  doing  so  that  we 
came  to  await  you  in  the  wood." 

"  Oh,  that's  delightful.  This  is  a  pleasant  sur- 
prise. Kiss  me,  wife.  How  nice  of  you  to  come  ! 
Now  we  will  amuse  ourselves,  eh,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  Bichet." 

"  Look  you,  I  am  her  Bichet." 

And  in  fact  we  passed  a  very  cheerful  day ;  every 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      199 

one  was  in  good-humor,  beginning  with  "Bichet," 
who  was  delighted  at  the  surprise  his  wife  had 
arranged  for  him.  While  my  friend  the  pyrrhon- 
ist,  who  had  found  his  wife  in  the  society  of  a  per- 
son whom  he  did  not  love,  had  made  a  shocking 
scene  and  after  that  day  lived  very  uncomfortably 
with  her. 

This  is,  therefore,  a  very  righteous  saying  — 
"  Beati  pauperes  spiritu  !  " 


WAT  TYLER 

An  Episode  in  English  History 

It  was  in  the  year  1382.  England  was  then 
enjoying  profound  peace  and  tranquillity,  and,  as 
Bruyere  has  so  well  said, "  When  a  people  is  peace- 
ful, one  cannot  imagine  how  the  peace  can  be 
broken  ;  and  when  it  is  troubled,  one  cannot  under- 
stand how  it  can  be  restored." 

But  sometimes  a  very  slight  cause  suffices  to 
arouse  an  incendiary  feeling  which  produces  general 
disruption  ;  in  this  case,  the  insolence  of  a  tax  col- 
lector produced  a  great  popular  uprising,  of  which 
Great  Britain  has  preserved  the  remembrance. 

King  Richard  II  had  established  a  new  tax 
which  affected  everybody ;  directly  a  person  had 
passed  the  age  of  adolescence  and,  in  the  eyes  of 
the  law,  could  be  called  a  man  or  a  woman,  capa- 
ble of  earning  a  living,  he  was  obliged  to  pay  this 
tax.  The  impost  probably  made  a  portion  of  the 
direct  levies. 

Tyler's  wife  —  he  was  a  roofer  on  the  estate  of 
the  Earl  of  Dartford — was  at  the  time  paying  the 
tax  for  her  husband  and  herself  and  her  servants, 
for  Wat  was  a  master  tyler,  and  lived  very  com- 
fortably ;  but  she  refused  to  pay  for  her  daughter, 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      201 

who  was  hardly  twelve  years  old,  asserting  that  the 
law  had  no  hold  on  her  as  yet  and  that  until  she 
was  a  woman  she  was  not  subject  to  the  tax  and 
could  breathe  without  paying  it.  The  collector  of 
this  tax  was  a  wicked,  brutal  man,  who  liked  to 
vex  the  unfortunate  and  cause  tears  to  flow,  and 
was  always  insensible  to  the  prayers  and  supplica- 
tions of  the  poor  and  indigent. 

He  was  quite  put  out  when  those  of  whom  he 
claimed  the  tax  had  their  money  all  ready  to  give 
him ;  for  then  he  had  no  cause  to  molest  them, 
no  threats  to  offer,  no  prayers  to  repulse,  he  was 
obliged  to  depart  without  seeing  them  shed  tears 
and  he  was  unsatisfied.  < 

A  certain  author  has  said,  "  Each  one  takes  his 
pleasure  where  he  finds  it,"  but  there  are  unfortu- 
nately too  many  men  whose  pleasures  are  ungen- 
erous. Tyler's  wife  was  of  a  rather  unaccommo- 
dating humor ;  she  paid  the  collector  and  was 
showing  him  to  the  door  when  the  latter  perceived 
little  Betsy,  the  tyler's  daughter.  This  charming 
child  was  but  twelve  years  old ;  but  she  was  tali 
of  her  age,  and  might  have  been,  from  her  looks, 
over  fifteen  years  old.  Picture  to  yourself  a  pretty, 
fair  head,  a  pink  and  white  complexion,  blue  eyes, 
soft  and  gentle  in  their  expression,  and  teeth  like 
pearls.  Such  was  this  young  girl.  She  was  an 
ideal  of  English  beauty ;  she  was  one  of  those  types 
which  one  sees  and  loves  to  dwell  on  when  one 
stands  before  a  portrait  by  Court  or  Lawrence. 


202  WAT  TYLER 

He  stopped,  looked  at  Betsy,  and  asserted  that 
they  had  not  done  with  him  as  they  had  not  paid 
for  her. 

"  She  is  still  but  a  child,"  said  the  mother,  smil- 
ing at  Betsy. 

"  Oh,  she  is  quite  a  woman,"  answered  the  col- 
lector, and  immediately  with  a  ferocious  smile  he 
took  her  arm  to  draw  her  towards  him.  But  the 
mother  darted  between  the  collector  and  her  daugh- 
ter and  with  a  despairing  cry  said  to  him  in  a  tone 
that  came  from  her  heart, — 

"  Ah,  you  will  not  offer  the  slightest  indignity 
to  my  daughter." 

Regardless  of  the  mother's  prayer,  and  of  the 
tears  which  filled  the  young  girl's  eyes,  the  pitiless 
man  again  seized  the  child,  when  a  hand,  stronger 
than  that  of  a  woman,  struck  him  and  hurled  him 
to  the  floor. 

Tyler  had  been  at  work  roofing  a  neighboring 
house,  but  he  had  heard  his  wife's  shout  and  his 
daughter's  supplications ;  quick  as  lightning  he 
had  arrived  on  the  scene  to  protect  them  against 
the  violence  of  the  collector.  The  latter,  furious 
at  having  been  thrown  to  the  ground,  rose  and 
struck  at  Tyler  with  the  weapon  he  carried.  The 
roofer  avoided  the  blow  and  seizing  one  of  his 
tools  broke  the  collector's  head. 

The  neighborhood  soon  learned  of  this  event. 
The  people  praised  Tyler's  courage  and  swore  to 
defend  him,  and  to  make  common  cause  with  him. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      203 

From  this  time  on,  Wat  the  Tyler  saw  the  num- 
ber of  his  defenders  and  partisans  increase,  until 
within  a  few  days  he  found  himself  at  the  head  of 
an  army  of  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  men 
who  recognized  him  as  their  chief  and  swore  death 
to  all  the  tax-collectors  and  minions  of  the  law ;  in 
fact,  the  turbulence  was  so  great  that  any  one  who 
could  read  or  write  or  carried  a  writing  in  his  pocket 
was  immediately  roughly  treated  by  this  mob  if 
he  fell  into  their  hands.  This  was  carrying  resent- 
ment rather  far ;  but  a  man  is  rarely  just  in  his 
moments  of  anger,  and  how  can  a  mob  of  irritated 
men  be  expected  to  listen  to  reason  ?  This  is  why 
it  is  dangerous  to  irritate  the  masses. 

The  king  having  been  informed  of  these  events, 
in  the  expectation  that  these  furious  men  would 
spread  sedition  on  their  way,  wanted  to  go  to  meet 
them  himself  that  he  might  come  to  an  under- 
standing with  Tyler.  The  archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury turned  Richard  from  his  design,  telling  him 
that  a  great  monarch  "should  not  compromise 
with  factious  villains." 

The  rebels,  on  being  informed  of  the  arch- 
bishop's conduct,  swore  that  he  should  be  punished, 
and  they  marched  on  London.  In  vain  the  lord 
mayor  endeavored  to  close  the  gates  against  them; 
Tyler  led  them,  Tyler  was  invincible,  and  besides 
the  people  of  London  welcomed  the  rebels  with 
confidence,  fc  they  shared  their  hatred  of  the  tax 
and  its  collectors.    Besides,  Tyler  and  those  around 


204  WAT  TYLER 

him  permitted  no  pillage ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
put  to  death  those  among  them  whom  they  found 
guilty  of  the  slightest  infraction  of  their  orders. 

After  burning  the  Duke  of  Lancaster's  palace, 
the  finest  building  in  London,  Tyler,  fearing  that 
it  might  be  suspected  that  their  object  was  pillage, 
published  it  abroad  that  he  had  forbidden,  under 
penalty  of  death,  any  one  to  appropriate  the  slight- 
est thing  taken  from  the  palace  and  that  the  im- 
mense quantity  of  silver  found  there  would  be 
broken  and  thrown  into  the  Thames. 

The  rebels  would  have  destroyed  the  Tower  of 
London  also  had  not  the  king  agreed  to  meet  them 
in  person  and  listen  to  their  propositions ;  but 
when  this  prince  appeared,  the  door  of  the  Tower 
had  been  opened  and  Tyler  and  his  people  entered, 
mingled  with  guards  and  the  king's  suite. 

The  garrison  of  this  fortress  consisted  of  notmore 
than  a  dozen  men,  and  was  composed  of  men-at- 
arms  and  archers ;  they  dared  undertake  nothing 
against  Tyler's  troops,  who  came  and  went  freely 
everywhere;  but  these  rebels,  who  up  to  this  time 
had  kept  themselves  in  leash;  these  men  who  in 
presenting  themselves  as  redressers  of  wrongs,  as 
vengers  of  tyranny,  should  have  guarded  against 
becoming  tyrants  themselves,  soon  lost  all  restraint 
and  were  guilty  of  the  greatest  excesses.  Thus  is 
it  true  that  in  revolutions  passion  mingles  with 
politics,  and  what  began  in  zeal  for  one's  country 
ends  in  zeal  for  one's  self. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      205 

The  archbishop  of  Canterbury  was  discovered 
in  a  remote  chapel  at  his  prayers ;  the  rebels  led 
him  to  the  platform  of  the  Tower  and  there  put 
him  to  death.  The  grand  treasurer  and  the  king's 
confessor  submitted  to  the  same  fate. 

Tyler's  army  extended  their  cruelties  to  for- 
eigners and  to  all  the  Flemish ;  and  in  order  to 
assure  himself  that  they  were  Flemish,  Tyler  made 
those  he  suspected  of  being  so  pronounce  two  words 
in  English  which  had  a  great  resemblance  to  two 
Flemish  words.  They  had  the  same  meaning  but 
a  rather  different  sound,  which  made  it  extremely 
difficult  for  the  Flemish  to  pronounce  them  exactly 
like  the  English.  These  two  words  in  EngHsh 
were  "  bread "  and  "  cheese,"  and  in  Flemish, 
"brod"  and  "kase."  If  they  were  not  pronounced 
according  to  the  rebels'  ideas,  Tyler  tore  off  the 
cap  of  the  man  who  was  speaking  and  he  was 
turned  over  to  the  executioners. 

Certainly,  bread  and  cheese  here  played  an  ugly 
part  and  one  for  which  it  was  not  intended. 

However,  the  king  had  had  some  interviews 
with  the  rebels  and  had  in  vain  begged  them  to 
lay  down  their  arms  ;  Tyler  refused  to  do  so  and 
insisted  on  several  points  to  which  Richard  could 
not  agree.  The  roofer  wanted  the  king  to  give 
him  license  to  kill  all  the  tax-collectors.  He  had 
even  sworn  that  there  should  be  no  more  of  them 
in  England  than  the  ones  already  established.  Wat 
Tyler  had  become  a  despot  in  his  turn.      Finally 


2o6  WAT  TYLER 

another  interview  was  accorded  by  the  king  to  the 
chief  of  the  rebels.  The  latter  had  established 
themselves  in  a  vast  plain,  where  Tyler's  whole 
army  was  gathered. 

The  roofer  was  on  horseback  when  he  advanced 
towards  the  king,  and  he  drew  so  near  that  prince 
that  his  horse's  head  brushed  that  of  Richard's 
richly  caparisoned  steed. 

"  Sire,"  said  Tyler,  "  do  you  see  all  those  peo- 
ple down  there,"  and  the  roofer  pointed  to  his 
army,  which  lay  at  a  little  distance. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  Richard,  "I  see  your 
friends  who  are  also  my  subjects — what  is  your 
object  ?    What  do  you  want  ? " 

"  All  these  people  are  at  my  orders,  they  have 
sworn  to  be  devoted  to  me  till  death,  and  to  do 
all  that  I  command  them." 

Richard  made  no  answer,  but  his  face  expressed 
not  the  slightest  emotion,  he  listened  calmly  to 
Tyler,  who  resumed, — 

"  I  declare,  sire,  that  we  will  not  disband  until 
you  have  given  us  the  charters  we  demand." 

The  king  was  about  to  make  Tyler  understand 
that  he  was  willing  to  render  justice  to  all  his  sub- 
jects, when  Tyler  took  offence  that  Sir  John  New- 
ton, who  carried  the  king's  sword,  was  on  horse- 
back in  his  monarch's  presence  ;  he  called  him 
traitor,  and  threatened  him  with  his  poniard.  The 
knight  immediately  drew  his  own  weapon  and  was 
preparing  to  use  it  when  the  king  stopped  him  and 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      207 

ordered  him  to  dismount  and  to  give  his  poniard 
to  Tyler.  The  roofer  was  not  satisfied  with  this 
mark  of  condescension,  he  wanted  also  to  have  the 
sword  which  Sir  John  was  carrying,  and  he  dared 
to  put  his  hand  on  it. 

"  This  is  the  king's  sword,"  exclaimed  Sir  John 
Newton,  "  you  are  not  worthy  to  touch  it ;  and  if 
we  were  alone  you  would  not  dare  to  renew  your 
demand." 

"  I  should  not  dare,"  said  Tyler,  furiously,  "  I 
dare  much  further  than  that,  for  I  swear  before  your 
king  and  master  not  to  eat  until  I  have  cut  off  your 
head." 

As  he  said  these  words,  the  roofer  prepared  to 
cast  himself  on  the  knight,  when  he  saw  the  lord 
mayor  of  London  come  up,  followed  by  a  great 
number  of  gentlemen  and  squires,  who,  alarmed  at 
the  position  of  the  monarch,  came  to  take  him 
away  by  main  force. 

"Sire,"  cried  the  lord  mayor,  "it  will  be  as 
shameful  as  unprecedented  to  allow  so  valiant  a 
knight  to  be  assassinated  in  his  lord's  presence. 
Permit  me  to  punish  this  insolent  rebel." 

The  king  signed  to  the  lord  mayor  to  arrest  the 
guilty  man,  but  before  they  had  time  to  reach  him 
Tyler  had  plunged  his  poniard  into  Sir  John  New- 
ton's breast ;  but  almost  at  the  same  moment  the 
lord  mayor's  mace-bearer  struck  him  on  the  head 
and  the  chief  of  the  rebels  fell  from  his  horse  dead, 
at  the  feet  of  his  victim. 


2o8  WAT  TYLER 

The  multitudinous  army  of  the  roofer  rent  the 
air  with  their  shouts.  Richard,  seeing  them  ready 
to  launch  a  flight  of  arrows  at  his  troops,  put  his 
horse  at  a  gallop  and  suddenly  presen  ted  himself 
to  the  rebels,  saying  to  them, — 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  my  friends  ?  will 
you  kill  your  king  to  avenge  the  death  of  a  man 
who  dishonored  himself  by  a  cowardly  assassina- 
tion? Do  better,  take  me  for  your  chief,  and 
I  promise  to  grant  you  everything  that  caused  you 
to  take  arms." 

Struck  by  the  noble  hardihood  of  this  young 
prince  (Richard  was  then  only  eighteen)  and  dis- 
armed by  his  promises,  the  rebels  instantly  obeyed 
him  and  returned  to  their  provinces. 

What  will  perhaps  appear  surprising  is  the  fact 
that  the  monarch  kept  his  word,  and  rejected  with 
a  kind  of  indignation  the  advice  given  him  by  his 
courtiers  to  have  some  of  the  rebels,  at  least,  put 
to  death  to  frighten  those  who  might  be  tempted 
to  imitate  them. 

Thus  died  Wat  the  Tyler,  whose  political  career 
was  short.  He  began  by  an  act  of  justice  and 
ended  by  himself  committing  an  act  of  cowardly 
tyranny.  A  moment's  power  sufficed  him  to  do 
that  which  he  had  blamed  in  others  1 


A  LITTLE  INNOCENT  GAME 
Le   Pied  de  Bceuf 

"  They  are  just  beginning  a  game  of  boston  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  that  will  last  for  a  century," 
said  pretty  Adeline  to  her  companions ;  "  Madame 
de  Bermont  is  going  to  play,  and  you  know  what 
a  time  she  is  reflecting  on  every  move  she  makes. 
We  have  a  couple  of  hours  before  us,  let  us  do 
something.     Let  us  play  some  little  games." 

The  little  games  are  accepted  ;  the  young  girls 
sit  down  and  draw  nearer  together;  the  young 
men  ask  permission  to  join  in  the  innocent  games 
and  it  is  accorded  them ;  they  form  a  ring,  but  some 
one  is  missing,  a  big,  fair  girl  who  is  chatting  with 
an  old  gentleman  in  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room. 

"  Come  along,  Clarisse,"  the  damsels  call  to  her. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  I  don't  care  to  play,"  an- 
swers Mademoiselle  Clarisse  rather  formally.  Im- 
mediately all  the  young  girls  look  from  one  to  the 
other  and  smile  mischievously. 

"  How  ridiculous  she  is  1 " 

"  Why,  what  a  silly  idea ;  mademoiselle  does 
not  wish  to  play  little  games  this  evening." 

"  Why,  no,  don't  you  see  that  she  is  talking 
literature,  poetry  with  that  old  gentleman  ?    She's 

Vol.  XX       309 


2IO    A  LITTLE  INNOCENT  GAME 

playing  the  savant.  I  am  sure  he  is  paying  her 
compliments.  She  is  delighted.  See  what  an  air 
of  importance  she  is  putting  on,  how  she  is  com- 
pressing her  lips." 

"  She  talk  of  literature !  it  must  be  comical  to 
hear  her  —  she  knows  nothing  at  all  about  it.  Just 
imagine,  the  other  day  she  wanted  to  insist  to  me 
that  the  *  Solitaire '  was  by  Lord  Byron." 

"  That  was  delicious  ! " 

"Since  her  father  has  gone  up  a  grade  in  his 
office,  she  gives  herself  airs.    Oh,  it  is  too  funny  !  " 

"  She  wants  to  learn  geometry." 

"  She  had  much  better  practise  on  her  piano,  on 
which  she  plays  execrably." 

"  And  what  a  squeaky  voice  she  has." 

"  When  she  sings  any  one  would  think  she  was 
howling." 

"  But  come  now,  Clarisse  ;  do  please  come,  dear- 
est ! "  resumed  the  damsel  who  spoke  last. 

"  No,  mesdemoiselles,  I  cannot ;  mamma  is  put- 
ting on  her  shawl.  We  must  go  to  bed  early,  for 
tomorrow  we  are  going  to  the  country  house  of 
papa's  chief  of  division." 

All  the  young  girls  look  at  each  other  again,  and 
bite  their  lips  so  as  not  to  laugh.  At  last  they 
remember  they  are  going  to  play  some  little  games. 
After  long  deliberation  it  is  agreed  that  they  shall 
play  pied  de  boeuf,  because  that  will  not  disturb 
anything.  They  need  only  draw  close  together, 
and  then  there  are  certain  young  men  who  will  not 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      211 

object  to  placing  their  hands  on  those  of  certain 
young  ladies.  Sensitive  hearts  take  advantage  of 
everything. 

The  hands  are  placed  one  on  the  other. 

"  Come  now,  monsieur,"  say  they  to  a  young 
man,  whose  hand  is  the  last  in  the  pile,  and  who 
will  not  withdraw  it  because  he  is  so  pleased  to  rest 
it  on  the  knee  of  one  of  Clarisse's  friends.  "  It's 
your  turn  to  count !  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  ** 

"  Excuse  me,  I  had  forgotten  how  to  play  it." 

They  count, —  seven  —  eight  — 

"  Nine ! "  says  a  little  girl  of  twelve,  and  the 
poor  little  thing  thinks  she  is  going  to  snatch  some- 
thing, but  she  holds  nothing,  and  she  is  very  dis- 
appointed. They  begin  again  ;  a  pretty  dark  girl 
finds  herself  the  last  and  when  she  says, "  Nine," 
the  young  man's  hand  withdraws  so  slowly  that 
she  has  no  trouble  in  seizing  it.  It  is  so  sweet  to 
be  caught  by  a  pretty  woman. 

"  I  keep  my  pied  de  boeuf,"  says  she  with  a  tri- 
umphant air. 

"  Really  !  that  is  quite  wrong,"  says  the  twelve- 
year-old  girl ;  "  monsieur  was  not  so  nice  to  me.** 

Patience,  sweet  child,  you  promise  to  be  charm- 
ing; in  three  or  four  more  years  you  will  be  as 
fortunate  as  any  of  them  at  little  innocent  games. 


THE    HUSBANDS 

Beaumarchais  has  somewhere  remarked,  "  Of 
all  serious  things,  marriage  is  the  most  comical." 

But  Beaumarchais,  who  wished  to  pass  for  a  wit, 
often  advanced  paradoxical  ideas  which  he  could 
support  only  by  witticisms. 

No,  marriage  is  not  a  comical  thing ;  far  from 
it!  Nor  is  the  state  of  the  married  man  always  as 
comfortableas  might  be  imagined.  It  is  not  enough 
for  him  that  he  finds  his  slippers  and  loving  atten- 
tions at  his  own  fireside.  And  then,  does  he  always 
find  these  attentions  ?  Some  husbands  must  have 
a  great  many  things  to  make  them  happy,  and 
others  require  so  few !  But  these  few  are  often  as 
difficult  to  find  as  the  many. 

However,  everybody  gets  married ;  those  who 
are  not  yet  so,  will  be  —  married,  that  goes  with- 
out saying  —  and  God  forbid  that  we  should  have 
the  slightest  intention  of  penning  a  diatribe  against 
marriage  in  these  pages. 

Since  the  majority  wish  to  taste  the  happiness 
of  married  life,  it  is  probable,  in  spite  of  all  the 
pleasantries  launched  against  marriage  that  the 
advantages  outweigh  the  disagreeables. 

And,  then,  where  should  we  be  if  there  were  no 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       213 

marriages.  Were  we  not  placed  upon  the  earth  to 
live  together  ?  Are  we  not  here,  before  all  things, 
to  love  ? 

Love  is  essential,  doth  sustain  the  mind  ; 

Without  it,  life  were  sad  to  humankind  ! 

And,  having  love,  night  is  essential  too. 

In  w^hich  to  voice  our  feelings  deep  and  true. 

To  the  dear  beings  v?hom  our  hearts  adore. 

We  re-awaken  to  recount  once  more 

The  tale  that  can't  be  told  too  oft,  it  seems  ; 

For  when  we  sleep,  it  mingles  in  our  dreams  ! 

It  is  Voltaire  who  says  that,  and  I  am  altogether 
of  Voltaire's  opinion.  Then,  since  night  is  always 
with  us,  it  is  indispensable  that  one  should  have 
near  him  the  tender  being  whom  his  heart  adores. 

Besides,  this  is  also  according  to  the  teaching 
of  the  apostles.  So  it  is  quite  understood  that  it 
is  perfectly  right  to  marry.  But  then,  my  married 
men,  why  have  you  sometimes  such  a  very  peculiar 
manner  ?  Why  do  you  so  often  deny  your  position, 
as  you  do  in  assuming  the  carriage,  the  flirtatious 
glances  and  all  the  manners  of  a  bachelor?  Why, 
when  you  have  only  just  married,  do  you  complain 
of  being  so  ?    (married,  of  course,  I  mean  ! ) 

Why  do  you  so  soon  cease  to  be  lovers  ?  to  be 
gallant  ?  to  be  thoughtful  and  impressive  in  your 
attentions  ?  to  be  amiable  ?  and  often  even  to  be 
loving  ?  For  all  these  things  you  cease  to  do,  or 
at  any  rate  cease  to  do  them  so  perfectly  as  you 
did  before  your  marriage. 


214  THE  HUSBANDS 

Why,  instead  of  avoiding  quarrels  by  means  of 
a  little  patience  or  a  desire  to  be  obliging,  do  you 
habituate  yourself  to  disputing  with  your  wife  as 
perfunctorily  as  you  take  your  coffee  ? 

Why,  when  discontent  seems  to  be  about  to  slip 
into  your  household,  do  you  so  quickly  go  to  seek 
your  pleasure  elsewhere,  in  place  of  making  an 
effort  to  bring  it  into  your  home  ?  Why  are  you 
the  first  to  do  everything  that  is  necessary  to  cause 
your  wife  to  cease  to  love  you  ?  Why  are  you 
simple  enough  to  intimately  associate  with  hand- 
some bachelors  or  men  of  wit,  with  whom  you  can- 
not compare  favorably  ? 

Why  are  you  foolish  enough  to  give  it  about 
everywhere  that  your  wife  has  ceased  to  love  you  ? 
It  is  as  though  you  said,  "  The  place  is  vacant,  I 
occupy  it  no  longer ;  anyone  who  likes  can  take  it." 

Why  !  Why  !  I  wager  you  have  already  said, 
"  We  don't  do  anything  of  the  kind  !  "  Oh,  you 
don't  do  anything  of  the  kind  !  You  are  quite 
sure  !  —  but  no  one  knows  himself. 

Would  you  like  to  know  what  you  do  ?  Be 
assured,  I  shall  not  overdraw  my  pictures,  I  shall 
first  depict  the  "  Newly  Married  Man  " ;  or  if  you 
like  it  better,  "  The  Honeymoon." 

In  the  first  place,  the  newly  married  man  gets 
up  very  late;  he  cannot  tear  himself  from  bed  (of 
course  his  wife  does  not  get  up  either).  If  he  is 
a  clerk,  he  says, — 

"  By  Jove !  I  shall  get  to  my  office  too  late  to 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      215 

sign  the  time  card  at  the  porter's,  I  would  just  as 
soon  not  go  at  all." 

If  he  is  in  trade,  he  says, — 

"  The  clerks  are  downstairs,  they  do  not  need 
me  to  open  the  shop.  We  don't  sell  much  of  any- 
thing in  the  morning;  besides,  it's  quite  necessary 
that  those  young  men  should  learn  to  depend  on 
themselves,  I  can't  be  incessantly  watching  them." 

If  he  is  in  business,  he  says, — 

"  I  had  an  appointment  for  this  morning.  I 
will  go  this  evening ;  that  will  come  to  the  same 
thing.     After  all,  one  can't  kill  one's  self." 

If  he  does  nothing,  but  lives  on  his  income, 
then  he  says  nothing;  but  when  his  wife  asks  him 
the  time,  he  stops  her  with  a  kiss,  and  answers, — 

"What  does  it  matter  to  us  ?  There's  nothing 
to  hurry  us.     Can't  we  do  as  we  please  !  " 

Madame  allows  herself  to  be  easily  convinced ; 
she  thinks  her  husband  is  endowed  with  very  per- 
suasive eloquence,  and  congratulates  herself  on 
having  wedded  a  Mirabeau. 

However,  love  does  not  suffice  to  sustain  our 
frail  machine,  and  presently  our  married  man  con- 
fesses that  he  is  very  hungry  ;  his  wife  says, — 

"  Breakfast  must  be  waiting  for  us,  let  us  get  up." 

"  Why  should  we  get  up  ? "  cries  our  husband. 
"  Let  us  breakfast  in  bed ;  that  will  be  nicer." 

Madame  has  no  objections  to  offer  to  this  ar- 
rangement; she  smiles  at  her  husband,  whose  ideas 
are  always  very  luxurious. 


2i6  THE  HUSBANDS 

They  breakfast  in  bed.  It  may  be  very  nice  to 
do  so,  but  certainly  it  isn't  at  all  convenient.  But 
no  matter,  love  makes  everything  charming. 

After  breakfast  they  have  so  many  things  to  say 
to  each  other  that  they  still  linger.  At  length  they 
rise.  It  is  almost  dinner  time,  and  they  have  done 
nothing  but  laugh  and  fool  and  frolic,  and  both 
think  the  day  has  passed  very  quickly. 

Monsieur  cannot  refrain  from  looking  into 
madame's  eyes,  from  putting  his  arm  around  her 
waist,  from  pressing  her  hands;  when  he  is  not 
doing  some  one  of  these  things,  he  sighs  and  sulks, 
until  madame  fears  that  it  will  go  too  far,  and  that 
her  husband  will  presently  lose  his  wits  for  love 
of  her. 

At  dinner  monsieur  takes  madame  on  his  knee ; 
he  drinks  from  the  glass  from  which  she  has  drunk; 
he  eats  of  everything  she  has  tasted.  Indian  curry 
seems  insipid  to  him  if  she  has  not  touched  it. 

In  the  evening  the  new-married  couple  decide 
to  go  to  the  play,  but  they  cannot  stay  there  to  the 
close;  if  they  go  to  a  party,  monsieur  is  in  great  haste 
to  get  back  home.  He  signals  his  wife  from  afar, 
and  she  makes  him  understand  that  for  appear- 
ances' sake  they  must  not  go  yet. 

But  our  newly  married  man  cares  not  a  fig  for 
appearances ;  it  little  matters  to  him  what  people 
say,  or  what  they  think.  He  wants  to  get  his  wife 
away;  he  wants  to  find  himself  alone  with  her,  for 
it  seems  to  him  that  such  moments  are  rare. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      217 

At  length  he  succeeds  in  inducing  her  to  leave; 
so  eager  is  he  that  it  is  almost  an  elopement.  He 
puts  her  into  a  carriage  and  springs  in  after  her, 
impatiently  thinking  they  will  never  reach  home. 

If  this  could  last  forever,  how  delightful  it  would 
be!     But  —  the  honeymoon  wanes. 

Would  women  always  be  to  their  husbands  what 
they  are  in  the  honeymoon?  That  is  a  grave  ques- 
tion, and  I  shall  not  seek  a  solution  for  it  here, 
because  it  is  the  married  men  with  whom  we  are 
occupied,  and  not  with  their  better  halves.  I  will 
only  say,  in  passing,  that  the  women  yield  less 
quickly  than  do  we  to  the  fullest  emotions  of  pleas- 
ure and  happiness ;  consequently,  it  is  not  the  wife 
who  begins  to  change  the  honeymoon  into  the 
declining  moon. 

Monsieur,  who  was  so  fond  of  lying  in  bed,  be- 
gins to  get  up  earlier ;  then  he  rises  as  early  as  he 
did  before  he  married ;  and  at  last,  he  gets  up  much 
earlier  than  when  he  was  a  bachelor. 

It  is  now  madame  who  wishes  to  detain  him, 
but  he  disengages  himself  from  her  restraining 
arms,  as  he  says, — 

"  And  how  about  the  office.  Devil  take  it !  I 
don't  want  them  to  make  unfavorable  reports  to 
my  chief — and  lose  my  place  later  on."    Or  else, — 

"  I  have  an  appointment  this  morning,  very 
early ;  it's  a  very  important  matter,  and  I  don't 
want  to  miss  my  man.  When  one  is  eager  to  do 
good  business,  one  can't  be  idle.'* 


2i8  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  But  you  haven't  breakfasted,"  madame  will 
say  sometimes,  sighing ;  "  if  you  like,  they  can 
bring  your  breakfast  up  to  you  in  bed.  That 
won't  take  long." 

"  Oh,  no  1  What  an  idea !  to  breakfast  in  bed ! 
It's  so  comfortable,  is  that !  You  upset  your  coffee, 
drop  your  spoon,  lose  your  bread  —  it's  wretched 
to  breakfast  in  bed.  It's  like  those  people  who 
prefer  to  dine  on  the  grass  and  crick  their  backs 
every  time  they  pour  out  anything  to  drink.  A 
table,  my  dear,  a  table  well  laid,  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  one  to  eat  with  comfort." 

Madame  murmurs,  half  pouting  and  half 
annoyed, — 

"  A  short  time  back,  however,  nothing  would 
suit  you  but  to  breakfast  in  bed  with  me  ;  you  did 
not  find  it  inconvenient  then." 

Monsieur's  only  answer  is  to  jump  out  of  bed; 
he  hastily  dresses,  hurriedly  despatches  his  break- 
fast, and  goes  out  before  his  wife  has  finished  her 
morning  toilet. 

Madame  does  not  think  her  husband  so  eloquent 
as  she  formerly  did.  She  makes  the  same  reflec- 
tions as  did  Gil  Bias  with  the  Archbishop  of 
Granada. 

When  monsieur  comes  in  during  the  day,  if  his 
wife  approaches  him  and  wants  to  play  little  tricks, 
to  laugh  and  sport,  as  during  the  first  days  of  their 
marriage,  our  married  man  answers  brusquely, — 

**  l.et  me  be  quiet,  my  dearest,  I  have  no  time 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       219 

to  play.  You  are  a  darling  !  but,  if  you  want  to 
oblige  me,  don't  prevent  me  from  working." 

Nor  does  monsieur  ever  dream  of  putting  his 
arm  round  madame's  waist,  nor  of  gazing  contem- 
platively into  her  eyes  for  minutes  at  a  time.  At 
dinner  he  no  longer  takes  her  on  his  knees.  And 
when  his  wife  offers  him  a  morsel,  from  which  she 
has  bitten,  he  does  not  seem  to  see  it  and  continues 
to  eat  what  he  has  ;  or  else  he  shrugs  his  shoulders 
and  answers, — 

"  Have  done  with  your  foolishness  !  I  do  not 
like  that  piece;  besides,  it  is  too  fat"  —  or  "  too 
thin,"  as  the  case  may  be. 

When  madame  puts  on  a  new  bonnet,  and  comes 
to  show  herself  in  it  to  her  husband,  inquiring, 
"What  do  you  think  of  me?  Is  it  becoming?" 
our  husband  answers,  "  Very  nice,  very  nice  in- 
deed ;  you  look  charming."  But  he  barely  glances 
at  his  wife,  and  the  latter,  who  perceives  that  her 
husband  has  not  looked  at  her,  departs  very  much 
vexed  by  this  indifference,  and  makes  up  her  mind 
not  to  try  to  please  his  taste  in  future. 

When  monsieur  takes  madame  to  a  party,  he 
deposits  her  in  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room,  where 
she  may  amuse  herself  as  best  she  can. 

For  his  part,  he  has  done  his  duty,  the  rest  is 
no  affair  of  his ;  he  goes  into  another  room  and 
makes  himself  as  amiable  and  polite  as  possible  to 
another  woman  —  perhaps  to  a  good  many  other 
women ;  the  essential  thing  to  him  is,  that  it  be 


220  THE  HUSBANDS 

not  his  wife ;  if  he  dances,  he  never  does  so  with 
her ;  it  is  understood  that  it  is  bad  form  to  dance 
with  one's  wife. 

Later  on  he  seats  himself  at  a  card-table,  and 
there  he  quite  forgets  the  time.  He  is  enjoying 
himself,  and  it  does  not  occur  to  him  that  his  wife 
may  be  tired.  The  latter,  however,  comes  to  the 
card-room  and  approaches  her  husband. 

"  My  dear,"  she  says  to  him  sweetly,  "  shall  we 
not  be  thinking  of  going." 

"  Yes,  yes  —  in  a  minute* —  very  soon  now.  Go 
and  dance  a  bit  —  and  then  we'll  go." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  dance  any  more ;  I  am  tired." 

"  Well,  sit  down  and  rest,  then." 

Madame  says  no  more,  she  goes  away  ;  but  she 
comes  back  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  to  say  to 
her  husband  who  is  still  playing, — 

"  My  dear,  it  is  quite  late.     Are  you  coming  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes,  —  in  five  minutes ;  in  less  than  five 
minutes,  I'll  be  with  you." 

The  five  minutes  lengthen  into  another  half 
hour;  finally,  our  married  man  leaves  the  card- 
table,  saying, — 

"  How  tiresome  not  to  be  able  to  do  as  one  likes 
without  incessantly  having  some  one  after  him  — 
who  obliges  him  to  leave  when  he  wishes  to  stay; 
women  have  not  the  slightest  consideration.  Ah, 
when  I  was  a  bachelor,  I  did  as  I  liked.  Idiot  that 
I  was,  to  tie  myself  up  like  this  !    Come  along  ! " 

Monsieur  takes  madame's  arm  and  conducts  her 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      m 

on  foot;  and  when  she  says  to  him,  "Are  we  not 
going  to  take  a  cab  ? "  he  answers,  "Why  should 
we  ?  it  is  not  far ;  besides,  it  will  do  us  good  to 
walk  a  little." 

Madame  sighs  again,  she  thinks  that  her  hus- 
band is  quite  changed,  that  he  is  no  longer  a  Mira- 
beau.  In  fact,  he  is  changed.  But  can  the  follies 
that  signalize  the  honeymoon  be  expected  to  last  ? 
No,  of  course  not. 

But  why  commit  these  follies  ?  Why,  gentle- 
men, when  you  set  up  your  own  households,  ac- 
custom your  wives  to  a  way  of  living  which  it  will 
be  difficult,  nay,  impossible  for  you  to  keep  up  ? 
Why  saturate  them  with  pleasure,  to  put  them  on 
half  rations  later  on  ?  Why  overwhelm  them  with 
caresses,  and  then  not  even  raise  your  eyes  when 
they  are  trying  on  new  bonnets  for  your  benefit  ? 
Why  expend  all  your  amiability  in  the  first  few 
days,  and  never  have  a  gallant  word  to  say  there- 
after. Why  ?  Because  it  is  not  in  man's  nature 
to  know  how  to  be  moderate. 

And  all  that  I  can  say  will  not  change  the  con- 
duct of  a  married  man  during  the  first  days  of  his 
marriage. 

We  will  now  pass  to  the  man  who  acts  as  nurse 
for  his  children,  for  when  people  marry  they  have 
children,  which  is  all  very  right  and  proper.  The 
Scriptures  say :  "  Increase  and  multiply,"  and,  in 
truth,  when  you  marry  you  do  not  increase,  but 
you  do  multiply. 


Ill  THE  HUSBANDS 

But  we  are  now  talking  of  the  married  man  who 
has  children,  and  who  worships  them ;  who  is 
devoted  to  them,  body  and  soul ;  who  bends  in 
ecstasy  over  their  cradles ;  who  gives  them  pap, 
after  tasting  it  himself;  who  gets  up  in  the  night 
to  give  them  drink,  and  who  takes  them  out  walk- 
ing on  the  boulevards  or  elsewhere. 

Let  us  also  walk  on  the  boulevards,  and  we  shall 
soon  meet  a  married  man  who  acts  as  his  children's 
nurse.  It  is  impossible  not  to  recognize  at  a  first 
glance  this  type  of  paternal  love, —  the  father  who 
has  abdicated  all  the  other  rights  of  a  man  to  con- 
secrate himself  entirely  to  his  little  ones. 

Take  note  of  this  gentleman  in  respectable  bour- 
geoise  clothes  ;  although  his  attire  is  unpretentious 
to  a  degree,  he  would  be  extremely  neat  had  not 
his  children  the  habit  of  wiping  their  hands  on  his 
coat,  his  trousers,  in  fact,  on  whatever  part  of  his 
apparel  comes  handiest  to  them ;  so  that  it  nearly 
always  bears  traces  of  sweetmeats,  butter,  honey, 
jam,  or  molasses.  As  you  may  imagine,  it  is  diffi- 
cult for  him  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  being 
neat  and  well-cared  for. 

Often,  this  gentleman  also  has  some  portion  of 
his  raiment  torn,  he  usually  lacks  several  buttons, 
and  his  hat  nearly  always  bears  marks  of  having 
been  repaired  —  all  of  which  is  the  result  of  the 
artless  abandon  of  his  babes ;  though  it  does  not 
prevent  his  eternally  singing, — 

"  Ah,  what  joy  to  be  a  father." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      223 

This  gentleman  has  two  sons,  and  their  mamma 
is  expecting  an  addition  to  her  nursery.  The  elder 
is  six  years  old,  and  the  younger  is  in  his  fourth  year. 
The  worthy  man  is  a  victim  to  the  clamorous  de- 
sires of  his  two  little  boys  from  the  time  he  wakes 
up  until  he  goes  to  bed.  Madame  insists  that  no 
one  must  oppose  Dodolphe  and  Polyte  in  any- 
thing; she  asserts  that,  in  order  to  form  the  char- 
acters of  the  children,  they  must  be  allowed  to 
follow  their  own  wills. 

Monsieur  is  too  good  a  father  to  gainsay 
madame,  and  instead  of  making  his  brats  obey,  it 
is  he  who  is  incessantly  at  the  orders  of  the  two 
imps.  When  Dodolphe  and  Polyte  wish  to  go  out 
walking,  our  man  hurriedly  dons  his  frock-coat,  puts 
on  his  hat  and  starts  off  with  his  sons.  Madame 
shouts  to  him  from  the  top  of  the  stairs, — 

"  Be  careful  about  the  carriages,  and  don't  let 
them  walk  too  fast;  don't  let  them  walk  in  the  mud. 
If  they  tear  their  clothes,  you'll  have  to  answer  for 
it,"  with  all  the  other  warnings  one  gives  to  a 
nursemaid;  to  which  monsieur  replies  with  a  sub- 
missive expression, — 

"  All  right,  my  dear,  I  won't  leave  them  for  one 
moment,  I  shall  take  good  care  of  them,  don't  be 
uneasy." 

Monsieur  directs  his  steps  towards  the  boule- 
vards, holding  Polyte  with  one  hand  and  Dodolphe 
with  the  other.  The  walk  begins  peaceably  enough ; 
the  children,  satisfied  with  being  out  of  doors,  are 


224  THE  HUSBANDS 

contented  to  look  about  them  and  to  force  their 
father  to  stop  in  front  of  every  shop,  which  the 
latter  does  with  admirable  self-abnegation.  But 
when  they  reach  the  Boulevard  du  Temple,  Do- 
dolphe  emphasizes  his  wish  to  go  to  the  right,  to 
see  the  waxworks  ;  Polyte  evinces  a  keen  desire 
to  turn  to  the  left,  to  see  the  Chateau  d'Eau. 

Feeling  himself  drawn  two  ways,  our  masculine 
nursemaid  is  very  much  distressed ;  for  the  first 
time  he  cannot  please  both  his  sons  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  but  he  does  what  he  can  to  make  them 
agree  by  saying  to  them, — 

"  My  dears,  we  can't  go  two  ways  at  the  same 
time ;  if  it  could  be  done,  I  should  be  glad  to  do 
It;  you  know  very  well  I  never  deny  you  any- 
thing." 

**  I  want  to  see  the  waxworks,"  says  the  biggest. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  the  chateau,  dodo,  dodo  na ! " 
shrieks  the  youngest,  stamping  his  feet  with  rage 
like  a  grown  person,  to  the  admiration  of  his  father. 

"  No,  we'll  go  that  way  ;  shan't  we,  papa?" 

"  No,  this  way,  pa-pa  dear." 

The  two  brats  begin  again  to  drag  the  author  of 
their  being,  each  one  attaching  himself  to  a  tail  of 
the  paternal  frock-coat.  Our  man  is  ready  to  cry ; 
but  at  length  he  perceives  that  if  he  does  not  put 
them  in  order,  he  will  presently  be  reduced  to  a 
waistcoat ;  he  plucks  up  courage,  and  speaking  in 
a  grujff  voice,  he  shouts, — 

"  By  Jove,  messieurs,  if  you  don't  make  an  end 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK 


225 


of  this,  I  shall  go  off  and  leave  you  both  here, 
bless  me !  and  the  policeman  will  come  and  take 
you,  bless  me  !  and  arrest  you  like  the  bad  people 
—  yes,  indeed,  and  a  good  thing  too." 

This  threat  has  some  effect ;  the  children  are, 
for  a  few  moments,  reduced  to  silence. 

Delighted  at  having  managed  to  make  himself 
obeyed,  our  man  leads  them  with  a  certain  kind 
of  pride,  looking  around  him  to  enjoy  the  effect 
that  he  must  have  produced  upon  the  passers-by. 

They  go  and  look  at  the  wax  figures,  but  that 
does  not  satisfy  the  two  little  boys,  who  want  to  go 
in  to  see  the  show ;  the  papa  consents,  although 
it  is  the  fifteenth  time  the  worthy  man  has  seen 
the  waxworks  and  heard  the  explanations  of  the 
scenes.  Prizes  of  virtue  have  been  accorded  to 
many  people  who  would  not  have  the  strength  to 
submit  to  that  test. 

After  contemplating  these  chaste  figures,  the 
infants  are  athirst.  Papa  takes  them  into  a  cafe 
and  asks  for  some  beer.  They  bring  it ;  the  two 
little  boys  taste  it,  make  grimaces,  and  eject  it  in 
a  rather  unconventional  manner  from  their  mouths. 

"  How  nasty  that  is  —  it  isn't  sweet  a  bit,"  they 
remark. 

Papa  orders  some  lemonade  or  some  sugared 
water,  which  he  gives  to  his  children,  and,  although 
he  is  not  thirsty,  himself  swallows  the  whole  of  the 
bottle  of  beer,  in  order  that  it  may  not  be  wasted ; 
paternal  love  renders  one  capable  of  anything. 

Vol.  XX 


lie  THE  HUSBANDS 

When  they  come  out  of  the  cafe  the  children 
are  eager  to  see  Punch  and  Judy,  they  stop  before 
a  canvas  tent.  This  time  they  do  not  ask  to  go 
inside ;  they  know  already  that  what  goes  on  at 
the  door  is  the  most  amusing.  But  as  they  are 
behind  some  soldiers,  nurses,  and  idlers  of  all  kinds, 
in  jackets,  in  blouses  and  even  coats,  who  also 
come  to  look  at  Punch,  they  begin  to  shout, — 

"  Papa,  carry  me  —  take  me  up  in  your  arms." 

Our  man  stoops,  puts  an  arm  round  each  of  the 
cherubs  and  lifts  them  as  high  as  his  shoulders. 
Paternity  is  not  all  roses. 

So  this  dear  gentleman  whose  sight  is  obscured 
by  his  youngsters'  velveteens  is,  for  all  that,  obliged 
to  explain  the  spectacle,  and  to  answer  the  ques- 
tions which  the  latter  incessantly  address  to  him. 

"  Papa,  who  is  that  ugly  man  there,  the  one  who 
shakes  his  head  and  wants  to  beat  Punch  ?  " 

"  That's  the  magistrate,  my  dear." 

"  Why,  he  has  two  big  horns  on  his  head,  and 
a  red  tail." 

"  If  he  has  a  red  tail,  it  can't  be  the  magistrate 
—  it  is  the  devil,  my  boys." 

**  Papa,  why  does  the  devil  want  to  beat  Punch  ?" 

"  My  dear,  it  is  probably  because  Punch  hasn't 
been  good,  he  has  perhaps  refused  to  eat  his  soup, 
or  he  did  not  want  to  learn  the  fable  of  the  fox  and 
the  crow.'* 

"  Does  the  devil  teach  Punch  his  fables,  then, 
papa  ?  is  he  his  schoolmaster  ?  " 


sn. 


E  HUSBANDS 

«  out  of  the.  ak$k  the  children 

stop  before 

/  not  ask  to  go 

•  hat  goes  on  at 

■  lersof  c 


jtpa,  aav 
Our  ma  h  oi  the 

So  this 

by  his  ' 
to  exp' 
fion^  V 


<^V*  cad,  and 

a  t-''  ■ 

—  ir  Is 
"Papa, 


«*  Papa,  carry  me  —  take  me  up, in  your  arms." 
Photogravure  from  Original  Drawing  by  William  Glackens 


'h  t/.Qvi-trthtf  CofKLfi><x/n.u . 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      227 

The  papa,  dumfounded  at  the  profundity  of  this 
reflection  on  the  part  of  Dodolphe,  who  is  but  six 
years  old,  glances  at  the  faces  of  the  persons  around 
him  to  see  if  they  reflect  the  admiration  which  he 
feels  for  his  son  at  this  moment ;  but,  perceiving 
that  no  one  is  taking  any  notice  of  him,  our  man 
decides  on  answering  in  a  loud  tone  so  as  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  crowd. 

"  My  dear  Dolphe,  the  devil  is  not  a  school- 
master ;  it  would  certainly  be  erroneous  to  attribute 
those  functions  to  him  —  those  functions  especially 
as  —  those  functions  —  " 

Here  the  papa,  at  a  loss  what  to  say  next,  begins 
to  cough  as  if  he  had  swallowed  a  fish  bone,  after 
which  he  resumes, — 

"  But  at  all  epochs  he  interferes  —  Is  Interfering, 
to  punish  little  rascals  who  are  not  good.  This 
was  what  I  wanted  to  make  you  understand  just 
now  in  employing  a  metaphorical  figure  —  hum 
—  hum!" 

"  Papa,  who's  this  man  In  a  long  black  gown, 
with  flour  on  his  hair,  who  comes  in  as  the  devil 
goes  out  and  who  is  disputing  with  Punch  ?  " 

"  Oh,  this  time  it  is  the  magistrate." 

"  What  is  a  magistrate,  papa  ? " 

"  Why,  he  is  a  man  who  is  appointed  to  see  that 
peace  and  order  are  kept,  my  dear." 

"  Then,  why  is  he  disputing  with  Punch  and 
beating  him  with  a  stick  ?  " 

A  new  access  of  admiration  on  the  part  of  papa, 


228  THE  HUSBANDS 

who  fondly  Imagines  he  is  carrying  an  embryo 
Voltaire  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Why,  my  boy,  it  is  probably  because  Punch 
has  refused  to  pay  his  taxes,  or  has  put  flower-pots 
on  his  window-sills,  contrary  to  the  orders  of  the 
police." 

"  Oh,  oh,  the  magistrate  has  killed  Punch — -" 

"  That  is  a  proof  of  divine  justice,  my  child, 
which  decrees  that  sooner  or  later  those  who  do 
wrong  shall  receivepunishmentfor  their  misdeeds." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  Punch  gets  up  again,  he  has  killed 
the  magistrate." 

"  Probably  the  magistrate  had  two  weights  and 
two  measures,  and  Providence  willed  that  he  should 
be  punished  by  means  of  Punch." 

"Papa,  papa!  the  magistrate  is  not  dead — he's 
taking  his  stick  again ;  there,  he's  killed  Punch  !  " 

" Then  Punch  is  decidedly  the  miscreant;  he  has 
perhaps  assaulted  a  policeman." 

"  Papa,  papa.  Punch  is  not  dead  —  he's  got 
the  stick  again  now,  and  is  killing  the  magistrate. 
Oh,  how  he  is  thwacking  him." 

Papa  begins  to  find  it  difficult  to  explain  to  his 
infants  the  moral  of  the  play  enacted  by  the  marion- 
ettes; but  at  this  moment  he  is  taken  with  sneez- 
ing, which  extracts  him  from  one  dilemma  and 
plunges  him  into  another ;  for  in  sneezing  one's 
primary  need  is  to  use  one's  pocket-handkerchief  for 
the  purpose  for  which  it  is  intended,  particularly 
is  this  the  case  when  the  individual  is  addicted  to 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      229 

the  use  of  snuif.  Our  man,  having  sneezed,  would 
have  given  the  whole  world  to  be  able  to  get  at 
his  handkerchief;  but  how  can  he  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  with  a  child  on  each  arm  ? 

The  parent  of  Adolphe  and  Hippolyte  decides 
to  omit  the  ceremony  with  the  handkerchief,  as  the 
only  possible  course  in  his  present  circumstances. 

Soon  a  dispute  arises  on  the  shoulders  of  the 
married  man,  Messieurs  Dodolphe  and  Polyte 
both  snatch  at  a  stick  of  barley  sugar;  shouts  and 
slaps  are  the  outcome  of  the  dispute.  Vainly  does 
the  papa  utter  these  words, — 

"Well,  messieurs,  will  you  have  done  up  there? 
Do  you  think  I  am  holding  you  up  to  fight  in 
the  air  ? " 

"  He  took  my  sucker." 

"  He's  a  greedy  thing." 

"  And  he  wanted  to  eat  it  all." 

"  Don't  believe  him,  papa ;  I  broke  the  piece 
in  two,  and  gave  him  half." 

"  Papa,  he  kept  the  longest  bit." 

"  That  isn't  true  —  he  says  that  because  he  has 
gobbled  up  half  his  already." 

To  put  an  end  to  the  quarrel,  our  man  adopts 
the  wise  course  of  placing  his  two  sons  on  the 
ground. 

Then  the  latter  howl  louder  than  before,  and 
want  to  see  Punch  again,  who  is  fighting  now  with 
the  cat,  which  has  replaced  the  magistrate  and  the 
devil. 


230  THE  HUSBANDS 

But  papa,  tired  of  the  scene,  feels  no  desire  to 
mount  his  darlings  on  his  shoulders  again ;  he  leads 
them  off,  and,  to  calm  the  anguish  of  their  disap- 
pointment, he  buys  them  gingerbread,  buns,  apples, 
tablets  of  chocolate — and  also  treats  them  to  cocoa 
to  drink. 

Monsieur  Dodolphe,  who  is  the  elder,  does  not 
always  remain  quietly  with  his  papa,  but  at  every 
turn  leaves  the  author  of  his  being  to  go  and  look 
at  an  image  or  watch  a  game  of  tops  or  marbles. 
Sometimes,  little  Polyte  also  wants  to  do  the  same 
as  his  brother.  Then  the  unhappy  parent  is  in  a 
peck  of  trouble ;  obliged  to  hurry  after  both  young- 
sters, who  have  scampered  in  different  directions, 
he  bumps  into  and  jostles  the  passers-by,  receives 
abuse  from  some,  digs  with  the  elbow  from  others ; 
but  he  pays  no  attention  to  this,  only  too  happy 
if,  after  putting  himself  into  a  perspiration,  he 
manages  to  catch  both  fugitives,  and  lead  them 
along  with  him. 

Presently  he  notices  that  his  eldest  son  has  his 
nose  grazed  and  one  of  his  eyes  almost  black, 
although  usually  they  are  blue ;  that  M.  Polyte, 
the  younger,  has  lost  quite  a  good-sized  piece  out 
of  his  jacket,  and  that  his  trousers  are  torn  at  the 
knee. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ? "  cries  the  agonized 
father,  "  I  haven't  let  you  out  of  my  sight  for  a 
moment,  and  here  you  are  with  torn  clothes  and 
bruises ! " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      231 

"  Papa,  a  big  boy  who  was  playing  marbles 
punched  me  in  the  eye,  because  he  said  I  had 
walked  on  his  game  and  prevented  him  from  win- 
ning." 

"  Papa,  there  was  an  old  woman  with  a  dog ;  and 
I  wanted  to  pet  him,  and  he  jumped  on  me  and 
tore  a  piece  out  of  my  jacket,  and  I  ran  away  from 
him  and  fell  down  and  tore  my  trousers." 

"  Well,  this  is  nice !  we  shall  have  a  pleasant 
reception  1  What  will  your  mother  say  to  me  ? 
You  little  devils,  I  can  never  take  you  back  fit  to 
be  seen." 

"  Papa,  carry  us." 

"  Papa,  carry  me  !  " 

"  Confound  it !  no  !  The  idea  1  you  are  going 
to  walk  now,  my  fine  fellows ;  I  carried  you  long 
enough  in  front  of  the  Punch  and  Judy  show. 
Besides,  you  must  not  ask  me  to  bring  you  out 
walking  if  you  continually  ask  me  to  carry  you." 

"  Papa,  are  we  very  far  from  home  ?  " 

"  No,  only  about  three  hundred  metres." 

"  What  does  that  mean,  papa  ?  " 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  why,  it  is  a  Greek 
word,  my  boys,  and  when  you  learn  Greek  you 
will  know  it  as  well  as  papa  and  mamma*" 

"  I'm  so  tired,  oh,  dear  me  !  " 

"  My  feet  hurt  me." 

"  Come,  Polyte,  come,  Dodolphe,  show  that  you 
are  little  men,  don't  be  babies." 

"  Then  sing  us  a  song." 


232  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  Oh,  yes,  papa.  You  promised  to  teach  us 
Marlborough." 

"  Well,  so  I  will  sing  the  song  of  Marlborough, 
but  you  must  repeat  it  after  me.  Pay  strict  atten- 
tion now,  and  presently  you  shall  sing  it  for 
mamma,  and  it  will  please  her." 

"Yes,  papa." 

"  Yes,  dear  papa." 

Papa  sings  in  a  solemn  tone,  trying  to  walk  in 
time,  and  adopting  the  pronunciation  required  by 
the  lament. 

"  *  Malbrouck  s'en  va-t-cn  guerre  —  miroton, 
toton,  mirotaine,'  now,  messieurs." 

Monsieur  Dodolphe  shouts  it  at  the  top  of  his 
voice ;  and  little  Polyte  drones  between  his  teeth 
—  "  Toton  —  toton,  tontaine  —  toton." 

Papa  continues  to  drone,  "  Ne  sais  quand  revi- 
endra  —  ne  sais  quand  reviendra ! '    Now,  boys  !  " 

"  Oh,  my  stomach  aches  !  " 

"  I'm  thirsty  —  I  am." 

"  No,  you  are  not  thirsty  now ;  you've  had  too 
many  things  already.  Come,  stoutly  now,  *  Ne 
sais  quand  reviendra  — '  " 

"  *  Ne  sais  quand  '  —  oh,  papa,  I  want  some 
almond  cake  !  " 

"  Be  quiet,  you  little  glutton.  Come  along, 
Polyte." 

Little  Polyte  made  a  grimace,  put  his  hand  on 
his  little  stomach,  and  confined  himself  to  mur- 
muring,—  ' 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      233 

"  *  Miroton,  mirotaine  —  toton  * —  I've  got  a 
pain  in  my  stomach  !  —  *  Mirotaine,  toton.*  " 

Presently  the  two  children  refuse  to  walk,  and 
their  wretched  parent  for  a  moment  gives  himself 
up  to  despair  ;  then  he  convulsively  grabs  his  two 
brats  and  sets  off  again,  exclaiming, — 

"  By  jingo  !  what  a  walk !  oh,  you  little  rascals  !  " 

"  Papa,"  grumbles  Dodolphe, "  you're  not  sing- 
ing —  sing  Marlborough  for  us." 

"  Give  me  some  peace,  you  little  scoundrels  !  " 

"  Oh,  papa,  you  didn't  say,  *  Miroton,  miro- 
taine.' Naughty,  bad  papa  1  I'm  going  to  cry  if 
you  don't  sing." 

"  Good-for-nothing  boy  —  there  —  there,  don't 
cry.  You'll  wear  me  all  out,  but  all  right !  *  II 
reviendra-z-a  Paques  —  miroton,  mirotaine  —  il 
reviendra-z-a  Paques,  ou  a  la  Trinite." 

At  last  the  wretched  man  gets  home  and  there 
he  is  scolded  roundly  by  his  wife  for  having  per- 
mitted the  children  to  tear  their  clothes  and  get 
hurt. 

It  is  quite  natural  to  love  one's  children,  nor  is 
there  the  slightest  harm  in  taking  them  to  walk ; 
but  when  a  married  man  takes  upon  himself  the 
precise  duties  of  a  nursemaid,  he  becomes  ridicu- 
lous even  in  his  wife's  eyes,  and  that  is  very  dan- 
gerous. A  woman,  as  a  general  thing,  only  keeps 
her  love  for  her  husband  so  long  as  she  fancies  him 
superior  to  herself,  and  the  ridiculous  kills  all  idea 
of  superiority. 


234  THE  HUSBANDS 

Then  there  is  the  husband  who  takes  his  wife 
out  walking. 

It  is  three  o'clock, —  they  should  have  gone  out 
at  one ;  but  monsieur  did  not  know  if  he  should 
or  should  not  shave,  if  he  should  wear  a  coat  or 
a  frock-coat,  if  he  should  put  on  a  waistcoat  with 
a  rolling  collar  or  a  plain  one  —  all  this  had  taken 
until  three  o'clock. 

Then  monsieur  is  ready ;  he  goes  down  first, 
swaggering,  looking  at  himself,  highly  pleased  with 
his  get-up. 

Madame  not  reaching  the  foot  of  the  staircase 
as  soon  as  he,  monsieur  turns,  stamps  his  foot  im- 
patiently, and  calls  up  to  her, — 

"  Well,  are  we  never  going  to  get  out  today  ? " 

"  Here  I  am,  I  was  looking  for  my  gloves." 

"  That's  all  very  well ;  first  it's  gloves,  then  it's 
a  handkerchief.  I  should  have  been  quite  sur- 
prised if,  at  the  last  moment,  you  had  not  forgotten 
something." 

Madame  comes  at  last  and  takes  monsieur's 
arm,  still  putting  on  her  gloves.  The  gentleman 
says  in  a  low  tone, — 

"  Queer  manners  to  put  on  one's  gloves  in  the 
street." 

"  My  dear,  you  hurried  me  so." 

"  What,  I  hurried  you  ?  why,  you  wanted  to  go 
out  two  hours  ago,  and  kept  grumbling  because 
I  was  not  dressed.  A  pretty  thing  to  say  I  hurried 
you  !     Which  way  shall  we  go  ? " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      235 

"  It  is  all  the  same  to  me." 

"  And  to  me  also." 

"  I  will  go  wherever  you  like." 

"  We  must  decide,  however,  and  not  stand  here 
in  the  middle  of  the  street  like  a  couple  of  idiots. 
I  don't  know  of  anything  more  annoying  than  a 
woman  who  always  answers,  *  It  is  all  the  same  to 
me! 

"  Oh,  well,  my  dear,  let  us  go  to  the  Tullerles." 

So  they  set  off  walking.  Monsieur  looks  at 
the  ladies  as  they  pass  or  thinks  about  his  business. 
They  do  not  speak  a  word.  Sometimes,  in  pass- 
ing a  milliner's  or  draper's  shop,  madame  ex- 
claims,— 

"  Oh,  what  a  pretty  shawl !  What  a  sweet  pat- 
tern for  a  dress  !     What  a  love  of  a  bonnet !  " 

Monsieur  does  not  hear,  or  he  makes  a  pretence 
of  not  hearing ;  or,  as  his  only  answer,  he  makes 
a  little  mumbling  sound  such  as,  "Hum — um — 
um — um — yes";  but  he  is  very  careful  not  to 
stop  in  front  of  the  shops. 

They  reach  the  Tuileries.  They  walk  about 
here  and  there,  up  and  down,  and  do  not  exchange 
a  word ;  only  monsieur  yawns  from  time  to  time, 
or  breathes  as  though  he  were  suffocating. 

In  the  middle  of  a  path  where  there  is  not  a  sin- 
gle person,  monsieur  suddenly  exclaims, — 

"  Well,  I  must  say  it  is  amusing  to  walk  about 
here  !  " 

"  Well,  why  not  go  somewhere  else  ? " 


236  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  Why,  there  was  no  need  of  coming  to  the 
Tuileries." 

"  But,  then,  you  wouldn't  say  where  you  wanted 
to  go." 

"  That's  always  the  way ;  you  chose  this  place 
because  you  know  that  there  is  no  walk  that  1  dis- 
like more." 

"  Oh,  directly  you  go  out  with  me,  you  are  bored ; 
whether  it  is  this  neighborhood  or  any  other,  it  is 
all  the  same  thing." 

"  Come,  that's  right  —  more  reproaches  ;  it's 
always  the  same  way.  But  do  you  really  think  it 
agreeable  to  walk  about  in  the  midst  of  this  crowd, 
of  these  children  who  are  always  rolling  their  hoops 
or  balls  against  one's  legs  ?  and  to  swallow  all  this 
dust  —  does  this  amuse  you?" 

"  If  you  were  to  speak  to  me,  I  shouldn't  mind 
it;  but  you  never  have  a  word  to  say  to  me." 

"  My  dearest,  when  people  are  incessantly  to- 
gether, they  can't  always  find  subjects  of  conver- 
sation." 

"If  you  were  with  another  woman,  you  would 
be  as  amiable,  as  pleasing  as  possible." 

"She  would  not  say  bitter,  sharp  things  to  me, 
she  would  not  incessantly  jaw  at  me." 

"If  one  only  reproaches  one's  husband  with 
looking  as  if  he  were  bored,  one  is  *  jawing'  him  ! " 

"  Will  you  have  done  ?  " 

"  You  think  you  can  prevent  me  from  speaking 
now,  do  you  ? " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      237 

"  Shout  a  little  louder,  so  as  to  make  everybody 
who  passes  look  at  us — that  will  be  the  last  straw." 

"  I  shall  shout  if  I  wish.  Do  you  suppose  peo- 
ple are  noticing  us  ?  you  always  think  everybody 
is  looking  at  you." 

"  If  you  keep  on,  I  shall  let  go  of  your  arm." 

"  Let  go  of  it  —  it  is  all  the  same  to  me." 

Monsieur  half  stops,  but  he  thinks  better  of  it 
and  does  not  leave  madame's  arm,  and  they  finish 
their  walk  without  breathing  another  word. 

Then  there  is  the  husband  who  is  always  paying 
his  wife  little  attentions. 

You  will  recognize  him  immediately ;  when  they 
are  out  walking  he  gives  his  hand  to  the  child,  if 
there  is  one  with  them ;  he  regulates  his  steps  by 
those  of  his  wife,  he  swings  and  twists  himself  al- 
most as  she  does  ;  he  holds  the  umbrella,  he  holds 
the  bag,  when  madame  has  one ;  and  he  looks  at 
her  every  two  minutes  anxiously  and  even  lovingly, 
as  he  says,  softly, — 

"  Tell  me  when  you  are  tired,  darling !  or  if  you 
want  to  turn  back,  my  angel. —  Would  you  like 
to  have  a  cab,  love  ?  —  Shall  we  cross  over  ?  — 
Darling,  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  the  sun  in  your 
eyes. —  Take  care!  there  is  a  gutter. —  We  will 
go  slower  if  you  like." 

And  a  great  many  other  little  phrases  of  this 
kind,  which  usually  obtain  no  answer  except  an 
impatient  movement  or  a  very  perceptible  shrug- 
ging of  the  shoulders. 


238  THE  HUSBANDS 

When  this  gentleman  takes  his  wife  to  the  play, 
he  makes  her  try  five  or  six  places  before  he  allows 
her  to  fix  on  one. 

"  My  dear,  you  won't  be  comfortable  here,  there 
are  several  big  bonnets  in  front  of  you  ;  let  us  go 
over  there,  you  will  see  better. —  The  seat  is  hard 
here,  let  us  go  to  the  other  side. —  I  don't  want 
you  to  stay  here,  there's  a  draught  from  the  back ; 
you  will  take  a  fresh  cold,  it  is  very  dangerous. 
Let  us  go  elsewhere. —  Oh,  there's  a  lady  near  us 
who  exhales  a  detestable  odor  of  musk,  it  will  give 
you  a  nervous  attack ;  I  can't  let  you  stay  there." 

The  poor  woman,  tired  of  thus  peregrinating 
about  the  theatre,  at  last  clings  to  one  place  and 
refuses  to  stir  from  it. 

"  This  is  comfortable  enough,"  she  says, "  I  shall 
stay  here,  I'm  tired  of  changing  from  place  to 
place." 

"It  was  for  your  comfort  that  I  did  it.  Do  you 
want  a  footstool  ?  " 

"No  —  " 

"  Boxkeeper,  bring  a  footstool  for  madame. 
Would  you  like  a  cushion  under  you  ? " 

"  What  should  I  want  that  for  ?  Am  I  a  child  ? " 

"  Boxkeeper,  try  to  get  a  cushion  for  my  wife. 
Would  you  like  me  to  close  the  window  of  the 
box?" 

"  Just  as  you  like." 

"  Are  you  too  warm  ?  " 

"  No." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      239 

"  I  will  close  it." 

The  play  begins ;  madame  would  very  much  like 
to  listen  to  the  actors,  but  in  the  midst  of  an  inter- 
esting scene,  her  husband  says  to  her, — 

"  You  look  pale  ;  you're  not  ill,  are  you  ?  ** 

"Me!  not  at  all." 

"  Do  you  feel  a  pain  somewhere  ? " 

"  Why,  good  heavens  !  no  ;  I  have  no  pain  any- 
where.    What  an  idea  !  to  want  me  to  be  sick." 

"  I  don't  want  it,  sweetheart,  quite  the  contrary ; 
but  if  you  are  at  all  unwell  it  would  be  much  better 
to  tell  me,  and  we  will  go  ;  you  may  be  staying  out 
of  consideration  for  me  and  that  would  be  wrong." 

"  What  I  should  like,  and  what  would  give  me 
very  great  pleasure,  would  be  for  you  to  let  me 
hear  the  play." 

"  I'm  not  preventing  you  from  listening  to  the 
play,  it  seems  to  me.  But,  all  the  same,  it  troubles 
me  to  see  you  so  pale  as  this." 

When  this  gentleman  dines  in  the  city  with  his 
wife,  he  never  loses  sight  of  her ;  and,  even  if  he 
be  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  he  will  not  fail  to 
call  to  her, — 

"  Don't  eat  that,  darling,  that  won't  do  you  any 
good  —  you  know  that  anchovies  don't  agree  with 
you. —  Don't  take  any  lobster,  it  is  too  indigestible 
for  you. —  If  you  take  any  salmon,  you'll  do  very 
wrong." 

"  Monsieur,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  pour  out  any 
madeira  for  my  wife,  for  it  will  make  her  ill ;  I  know 


240  THE  HUSBANDS 

exactly  what  her  digestion  will  stand.  My  dearest, 
if  you  drink  it,  you  will  make  trouble  for  me." 

Madame,  altogether  impatient  at  the  care  her 
husband  takes  of  her  health,  makes  a  very  pro- 
nounced grimace  and  eats  nothing  at  all,  because 
the  vexation  she  experiences  has  taken  away  her 
appetite. 

Meantime,  monsieur  eats  for  four,  and  drinks 
of  all  the  wines. 

Do  they  go  to  a  ball,  that  is  another  story ;  first 
of  all,  monsieur  inspects  madame's  toilet. 

"  That  gown  is  cut  too  low,  you  will  take  cold ; 
it  is  too  tight,  too,  it  must  make  you  uncomfort- 
able." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear,  that  my  gown  does  not 
incommode  me  in  the  least." 

"Oh,  women  will  never  confess  that  any  article 
of  dress  is  too  tight ;  but  they  often  do  themselves 
immense  injury  by  compressing  their  waists,  which 
sometimes  results  in  serious  illnesses.  People  very 
often  say,  *  So-and-so  has  just  died  of  consumption; 
it  is  very  singular,  for  she  was  so  well-built,  had 
such  a  fresh  complexion,  one  would  never  have 
thought  she  would  go  into  consumption.'  But  no 
one  ever  imagines  that,  to  make  her  waist  small, 
this  lady  had  compressed  her  body  and  injured  her 
lungs." 

"  My  dear,  look  here,  I  can  pass  my  finger  under 
my  belt ;  that  will  show  you  that  it  is  not  too  tight." 

"  Oh,  yes,  according  to  you,  you  can  always  do 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      241 

that,  because  you  hold  your  breath.  My  darling, 
you  will  please  me  very  much  if  you  will  put  on 
another  dress.  I  shall  be  unhappy  all  the  evening 
if  I  see  you  at  the  ball  with  that  dress  on." 

To  make  an  end  of  this,  madame  consents  to 
put  on  a  dress  which  does  not  please  her  half  so 
well.  This  little  contrariety  has  already  deprived 
her  of  part  of  the  pleasure  she  had  promised  her- 
self and  during  the  whole  evening  she  thinks  of 
that  gown  which  was  so  becoming  to  her  and 
which  her  husband  has  made  her  take  off. 

When  they  get  to  the  ball,  instead  of  leaving 
his  wife  free  to  enjoy  the  dancing,  and  seeking  on 
his  own  behalf  to  get  as  much  pleasure  as  possible, 
our  husband  does  not  lose  sight  of  his  wife.  Do 
not  imagine  this  is  through  jealousy,  the  attentive 
husband  is  never  jealous;  he  is  persuaded  that  his 
wife  adores  him,  because  she  knows  that  she  will 
not  find  another  like  him  so  far  as  attention  and 
forethought  go. 

Here,  as  elsewhere,  he  evinces  a  touching  solici- 
tude. He  walks  up  and  down  the  drawing-room 
where  his  wife  is  seated.  Hardly  has  she  danced 
a  contra-dance,  when  he  comes  up  to  her. 

"  You  are  very  warm,  darling." 

"  Why,  no,  not  too  warm." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are  very  warm,  are  you  going  to 
dance  another  quadrille  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  am  engaged  for  it." 

"  I  am  sorry  —  you  should  have  rested." 

Vol.  XX 


242  THE  HUSBANDS 

After  the  following  contra-dance,  madame  has 
hardly  been  led  to  her  place  by  her  squire,  when 
her  husband's  face  appears,  and  he  places  himself 
beside  her,  like  one  of  those  shadows  which,  by 
the  illusion  of  dissolving  views,  one  sees  suddenly 
spring  up  before  one. 

"  How  red  you  are,  my  pet,"  says  our  attentive 
husband,  with  the  uneasy  look  of  a  mother  who 
feels  her  infant's  pulse  and  finds  him  in  a  fever. 
Madame,  who  thinks  this  remark  a  trifle  superflu- 
ous, tries  to  smile  as  she  answers, — 

"  Is  it  surprising  that  one  should  have  a  color 
after  dancing  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  never  seen  you  so  red  as  that." 

Madame  leans  toward  a  woman  seated  near  her, 
and  says  to  her,  quite  low, — 

"  Have  I  such  an  extraordinary  color  ?  Do  I 
look  like  a  crab  ?  " 

"  Why,  no  ;  you  look  very  well,  your  husband 
does  not  know  what  he  is  talking  about." 

Presently,  a  young  man  who  has  managed  to 
get  some  ices  brings  one  to  the  attentive  husband's 
spouse ;  the  latter  accepts  it  and  is  beginning  to  eat, 
when  her  husband  takes  it  from  her,  saying, — 

"  Why,  the  idea,  my  darling  !  you  are  not  going 
to  eat  that." 

"  And  why  not  ?  it  is  an  ice." 

"  I  can  see  that,  and  that  is  why  I  don't  want 
you  to  swallow  a  morsel ;  you  are  too  warm,  it  will 
make  you  ill." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      243 

"  But  all  these  ladles  have  been  dancing  too,  and 
they  are  eating  ices." 

"These  ladies  can  do  as  they  wish,  that  has 
nothing  to  do  with  me.  But  you  are  different,  I 
know  your  constitution.  An  ice  !  oh,  no  —  that 
will  be  an  unpardonable  imprudence.  Would  you 
like  some  punch  ?  " 

"  You  know  well  that  I  never  drink  punch, 
monsieur,  that  I  cannot  bear  it,  while  I  am  very 
fond  of  ices." 

"  That  makes  no  difference." 

And  monsieur  sets  to  work  on  the  ice  meant 
for  his  wife,  and  he  walks  up  and  down  in  front  of 
her  enjoying  it,  and  he  is  not  ashamed  to  say, — 

"  It  is  excellent,  very  well  frozen." 

A  little  later  the  orchestra  plays  the  prelude  of 
one  of  Strauss'  delightful  waltzes.  Madame  is 
passionately  fond  of  waltzing,  which  she  does  very 
gracefully  and  in  good  time.  She  accepts  the  arm 
of  a  young  gentleman  who  is  said  to  be  a  very  good 
waltzer.  They  start  off  together,  they  have  already 
made  the  tour  of  the  room  and  obtained  the  ap- 
plause of  the  spectators,  when  our  husband,  per- 
ceiving his  wife  in  her  progress,  runs  after  her  at 
the  risk  of  being  knocked  down  by  those  who 
are  engaged  in  waltzing,  and  seizing  her  by  the 
arm  obliges  her  and  her  partner  to  stop,  and  says 
to  her  in  his  usually  amiable  manner, — 

"  Why,  what  are  you  doing  now  ?  What  are 
you  thinking  of?  You  to  waltz — ?  but  I  am  here. 


244  THE  HUSBANDS 

fortunately,  to  prevent  you  from  doing  anything 
so  foolish." 

"  Why,  monsieur,  you  know  very  well  that  I 
am  quite  fond  of  waltzing  —  that  it  does  not  make 
me  dizzy." 

"  It  does  not  make  you  dizzy,  that  is  possible; 
but  it  will  do  you  a  great  deal  of  harm.  You  will  be 
ill  to-morrow —  I  have  consulted  several  doctors  ; 
they  tell  me  that  waltzing  is  injurious  to  nervous 
women,  and  you  are  extremely  nervous,  my 
darling." 

"  A  few  turns  only,  monsieur,  and  then  we  will 
stop,"  pleads  the  young  gallant,  addressing  the 
husband. 

"  Yes,  only  a  few  turns  my  dear,"  says  madame 
with  a  supplicating  expression. 

But  monsieur  is  inexorable,  he  takes  his  wife  by 
the  arm,  leads  her  to  her  place,  and  throws  over 
her  shoulders  a  pelisse,  a  mantle,  anything  that  he 
finds  to  his  hand. 

Madame  is  furious,  but  she  does  not  dare  to  say 
anything.  People  do  not  dispute  in  the  presence 
of  company ;  and  besides,  her  husband  has  the 
reputation  of  being  so  gallant  a  man,  so  assiduous 
in  his  attentions  to  his  wife,  that  people  believe  her 
to  be  excessively  happy.  She  tries  to  dissimulate 
her  weariness. 

The  hour  for  supper  approaches ;  she  knows, 
from  the  mistress  of  the  house,  that  the  ladies  alone 
will  be  seated  at  the  table ;  she  may  therefore  eat 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      245 

what  she  pleases  without  having  to  fear  her  hus- 
band's observation. 

She  hopes  to  indemnify  herself  at  supper  for  the 
vexations  of  the  evening,  for  she  is  very  fond  of 
supping ;  there  are  some  ladies  who  are  not  averse 
to  that  occupation.  I  see  nothing  wrong  there ;  on 
the  contrary,  I  have  a  great  esteem  for  ladies  who 
are  willing  to  admit  that  they  eat  like  other  mortals. 

But,  alas  1  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  supper 
our  husband  arrives,  holding  on  his  arm  his  wife's 
pelisse ;  he  throws  it  over  her  shoulders,  saying, — 

"My  love,  there's  a  carriage  below,  waiting  for 
us. 

"  What !  you  want  to  go  already  ? " 

"  Already  1  it  is  quite  late  enough." 

"  But  they  are  going  to  have  supper  in  a 
moment." 

"  That's  exactly  the  reason  I  want  to  go ;  else 
you  might  allow  yourself  to  be  tempted  to  partake 
of  something,  and  it  will  do  you  no  good  to  eat  in 
the  evening,  you,  who  are  so  delicate  !  You  know 
very  well  you  never  take  supper;  nor  I,  either." 

"  But,  monsieur,  when  one  has  passed  a  great 
part  of  the  night  in  dancing,  it  is  not  the  same  as 
if  one  had  gone  to  bed  at  eleven  o'clock." 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  the  same  —  I  don't  want  you  to 
eat  anything  this  evening;  devil  take  it!  we  must 
think  of  your  precious  health.  Come,  my  dear- 
est, the  carriage  is  waiting  for  us." 

Monsieur  leads  madame,  who  is  lit  to  cry,  and 


246  THE  HUSBANDS 

who  returns  home  mentally  vowing  that  hereafter 
she  will  refuse  to  go  out  walking,  or  to  a  play,  or 
a  ball,  or  to  dine  in  the  city. 

Do  you  imagine  a  woman  can  be  very  happy 
with  such  an  over-attentive  husband  ?  Fortunately 
this  species  is  rare. 

The  married  man  who  pushes  his  attentions  to 
his  better  half  so  ridiculously  far  as  the  one  I  have 
just  depicted  to  you  is  a  perfectly  insupportable 
being,  who  would  bring  about  a  nervous  attack  with 
any  woman  who  was  the  least  bit  susceptible  to 
such  illness.  And  do  you  suppose  it  is  from  ex- 
treme love  for  his  wife  that  this  gentleman  so  con- 
ducts himself?  If  so,  undeceive  yourself.  What 
the  fellow  wants  is  that  he  shall  be  quoted  as  a 
model  for  husbands ;  as  a  man  who  worships  his 
wife,  and  has  no  thought  but  for  her ;  as  a  phcenix, 
in  short. 

If  he  really  loved  his  wife  he  would  not  be  in- 
cessantly after  her,  like  the  apothecaries  after 
M.  de  Pourceaugrac.  I  place  such  husbands  in 
the  ranks  of  hypocrites. 

We  have  also  husbands  who,  before  other  people, 
devour  their  wives  with  caresses ;  who  cannot  be 
near  their  better  halves  without  fondly  clasping 
their  waists.  Occasionally  one  of  these  husbands 
will  go  so  far  as  to  kiss  his  wife  in  public  ;  he  will 
touch  her  neck  or  her  cheeks  with  his  lips,  or  even 
her  mouth,  in  an  apparent  delirium  of  ecstacy,  as  if 
he  were  kissing  his  wife  for  the  first  time. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK     247 

While  this  is  going  on,  just  watch  the  expression 
on  the  face  of  a  third  person,  sometimes  on  the 
faces  of  several  third  persons.  One  is  always 
tempted  to  say  to  the  husband, — 

"  Come,  I  am  in  the  way  here,  I  see,  I  will  leave 
you  to  yourselves." 

And  if  one  does  depart  and  leave  him  alone 
with  his  wife,  the  gentleman  who  seems  to  be 
desirous  of  devouring  her  with  kisses  will  be  caught 
in  his  own  trap. 

Apart  from  the  consideration  that,  in  conduct- 
ing himself  thus  before  everybody,  he  is  totally 
lacking  in  good  breeding,  in  decency,  in  politeness, 
and  in  the  most  simple  good  manners  —  the  mar- 
ried man  who  is  so  demonstrative  to  his  wife  before 
witnesses  is  usually  very  bad-tempered  and  some- 
times even  brutal  at  home. 

Let  us  follow  him  there ;  we  shall  have  a  change 
of  scene  almost  as  complete  as  those  at  the  opera. 

"  Why  isn't  breakfast  ready  ?  " 

This  is  monsieur's  first  question  when  he  gets 
up,  and  it  is  put  in  a  very  ill-tempered  tone. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  it  isn't  late." 

"  Not  late  !  What  do  you  mean  by  not  late  ? 
Suppose  I  want  to  breakfast  earlier !  Suppose  I  am 
hungry  —  but  they  are  such  dawdlers  here  !  Why 
have  they  made  coffee  ?    I  want  chocolate." 

"  You  should  have  told  me,  dear." 

"  You  should  have  asked  me." 

"  You  usually  take  coffee." 


248  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  That  is  why  I  want  a  change  today.  It  would 
not  be  much  trouble  for  you  to  ask  me  what  I 
want.  Who  laid  that  fire  ?  It's  very  nice,  very 
pleasing  —  they  don't  even  know  how  to  build  a 
fire  here.     What  is  the  matter  with  this  bread  ? " 

"It  is  oatmeal  bread." 

"  I've  told  you  before  that  I  don't  like  oatmeal 
bread.  You've  made  it  on  purpose  to  vex  me. 
Some  one  rang  the  bell  this  morning,  who  was  it  ? " 

"  That  fair  young  man  who  has  been  here  twice 
before  to  consult  you  as  to  whether  he  ought  to 
marry.  You  told  me  he  bored  you  ;  so  this  morn- 
ing I  sent  him  away,  telling  him  you  had  already 
gone  out." 

The  husband  almost  jumps  out  of  his  chair  and 
thumps  his  knees  angrily  as  he  shouts, — 

"  And  who  asked  you  to  send  that  young  man 
away  ?  You're  always  doing  something  stupid  ! 
I  wanted  to  speak  to  him  particularly  today.  I  had 
some  information  to  give  him,  and  for  you  to  tell 
him  I  was  not  in !  I'll  be  hanged  if  they  know 
how  to  do  anything  here  that  will  please  me ! " 

In  his  anger,  monsieur  fails  to  observe  that  he 
is  putting  his  elbow  into  his  coffee  cup  ;  the  cup 
crashes  to  the  ground  and  the  coffee  soaks  into  his 
dressing-gown  ;  this  redoubles  his  exasperation. 

"  There's  my  dressing-gown  spoiled  now,"  he 
shouts.     "  That  is  your  fault,  madame." 

"  How  can  it  be  my  fault  ?  You  need  not  have 
upset  your  cup." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK        249 

"  There  was  no  need  of  putting  me  out  of  tem- 
per this  morning." 

"  You  are  right,  there  was  no  need  to  do  so,  for 
you  woke  up  in  a  bad  temper." 

"  Have  you  done  with  your  stupid  remarks  ? 
Take  care !  don't  push  me  too  far." 

"  Good  heavens  !  you  need  not  look  so  furious. 
It's  easy  to  be  seen  that  we  are  alone." 

"  Will  you  keep  still  ?  " 

"In  company,  you  devour  me  with  caresses,  so 
that  every  one  may  think  me  very  happy.  Ah,  if 
they  only  knew  how  you  treat  me — when  we  are 
alone." 

"  Will  you  hold  your  tongue  ? " —  grinding  his 
teeth. 

"  It  is  surprising  how  much  those  kisses,  show- 
ered on  me  before  everybody,  please  me." 

"  If  you  don't  have  done,  I'll  throw  my  cup  in 
your  face." 

"  You  would  be  capable  of  it,  you  ugly  wretch ! " 

"  Oh,  you  call  me  a  wretch  !  there  !  take  that." 

The  cup  flies  over  towards  madame,  who  dodges 
it  by  leaning  forward ;  but  who  does  not  always 
escape  the  slap  in  the  face  that  follows  the  cup. 

While  madame  is  crying,  the  bell  is  heard ;  the 
maid  announces  a  visitor.  Then  monsieur  says  to 
his  wife,  with  a  threatening  look, — 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  cry  before  every- 
body. Wipe  your  eyes  quickly.  If  not,  I  shall 
begin  again  when  they  are  gone." 


250  THE  HUSBANDS 

The  visitor  enters.  Monsieur  has  immediately 
assumed  a  cheerful,  pleasant  expression,  and  a  soft, 
musical  voice.  The  person  who  comes  in  says  to 
madame, — 

"  How  pale  you  are  —  and  your  eyes  are  red. 
Have  you  been  ill  ?  '* 

Monsieur  does  not  allow  his  wife  to  answer. 

"Oh,  that  is  nothing,"  he  says  airily.  "She  read 
too  late  in  bed  last  night — and  that  has  tired  her 
eyes.  I  often  say  to  her,  *  My  pet,  you  will  ruin 
your  eyes  by  reading  so  far  into  the  night' ;  but  she 
won't  listen  to  me,  and  then  you  see  what  hap- 
pens —  the  next  morning  she  is  pale  and  has  red 
eyes.  But  she  has  promised  me  to  be  more  rea- 
sonable." 

And  as  he  says  this,  our  man  goes  up  to  his 
wife  and  kisses  her  on  the  cheeks. 

Of  all  vices,  hypocrisy  is  the  most  disgusting ; 
for  those  who  practice  it  try  to  obtain  credit  for 
virtues  that  they  do  not  possess.  The  robber  who 
attacks  you  in  the  highway  openly  confesses  that 
he  is  a  robber.  The  husband  who  caresses  his 
wife  before  everybody,  and  beats  her  in  his  home, 
is  more  vicious  than  the  robber  I  have  just  men- 
tioned. 

The  wife  who  possesses  such  a  husband,  and 
who  remains  faithful  to  her  duties  as  a  wife,  deserves 
that  people  should  raise  statues  to  her ;  an  altar, 
an  obelisque,  a  triumphal  arch. 

The  married  man  who  wears  nightcaps   does 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       251 

himself  the  greatest  wrong  in  his  household,  in 
society,  and  in  the  profession  which  he  has  seen 
fit  to  adopt. 

The  nightcap,  vulgarly  called  the  "extinguisher," 
has  two  very  grave  faults,  particularly  for  French- 
men ;  it  makes  a  man  look  ugly  and  it  makes  him 
look  ridiculous. 

If  you  are  already  ugly,  what  need  is  there  of 
your  wearing  anything  on  your  head  that  accen- 
tuates your  plainness  ?  You  are  going  to  answer 
me,  "It  doesn't  matter  before  one's  wife." 

That  is  exactly  where  nearly  all  married  men 
are  wrong,  they  are  not  spruce  enough  when  alone 
with  their  wives.  If  you  would  have  these  ladies 
remain  fond  of  you,  at  least  make  an  effort  to 
please  them. 

You  would  not  allow  your  mistress  (if  you  have 
one)  to  see  you  in  a  nightcap ;  why,  then,  are  you 
so  indifferent  towards  your  wife  as  to  allow  her  to 
see  you  in  that  head-dress  ?  Is  it  because  you 
think  your  wife  does  not  know  how  to  judge  what 
is  becoming  or  unbecoming  to  you  as  well  as 
another  ? 

But  the  greater  part  of  these  gentlemen  allow 
themselves,  in  their  own  homes,  a  disorder  which 
is  by  no  means  that  of  art.  They  seem  to  say  to 
themselves, — 

"  Pshaw !  our  wives  will  think  us  handsome 
enough  anyway." 

"  Vanitas  vanitatum !  omnia  vanitas." 


252  THE  HUSBANDS 

You  are  completely  mistaken,  gentlemen,  these 
ladies  do  not  think  you  handsome  enough  anyway. 

To  return  to  nightcaps,  proscribe  them  from 
entering  your  dwelling,  have  no  transactions  with 
them ;  remember  that  this  concerns  your  head,  and 
that  if  you  once  become  accustomed  to  wearing 
these  things,  people  will  imagine  you  to  be  sus- 
ceptible of  wearing  some  other  things  also. 

And,  then,  what  is  the  use  of  looking  like  a 
simpleton  ? 

We  now  pass  to  the  meddlesome  husband. 

One  is  born  a  meddler,  as  one  is  born  a  man  of 
genius,  a  mechanician,  a  musician,  a  poet,  a  cook- 
shop  keeper  ;  and  the  man  who  is  meddlesome  as  a 
bachelor  will  be  still  more  so  when  he  is  married. 
This  information  is  for  the  benefit  of  the  ladies. 

It  is  very  vexatious  that  the  meddlesome  man 
cannot  see  himself,  examine  himself,  to  the  benefit 
of  his  household ;  it  is  probable  that  would  cure 
him  of  his  mania. 

Certainly,  one  may  be  a  meddler  and  yet  be  esti- 
mable in  everything  else ;  a  meddlesome  husband 
may  worship  his  wife  and  children,  do  his  business 
honorably,  mount  guard  faithfully,  and,  in  fact, 
acquit  himself  creditably  of  all  the  duties  society 
imposes  upon  him.  But  in  his  household  he  will 
be  no  less  insupportable,  annoying,  tiresome. 

The  first  thing  in  the  morning  the  meddlesome 
man  finds  a  way  of  exercising  his  disagreeable 
habit,  even  before  he  gets  out  of  bed. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      253 

"  Give  mc  my  handkerchief,  wife,  pass  me  my 
handkerchief;  it  must  be  on  the  chair  beside  the 
bed,  near  you." 

Madame,  still  half  asleep,  stretches  out  her  arm 
and  gives  a  handkerchief  to  her  husband. 

The  latter  is  about  to  use  it,  but  he  stops,  looks 
at  the  handkerchief,  and  cries, — 

"  This  is  not  mine ;  my  handkerchiefs  haven't 
a  colored  border.     This  is  yours." 

"  That's  very  likely,  my  dear." 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  yours.  That  is  to  say,  your 
handkerchiefs  have  a  blue  border,  this  is  brown  — 
what  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"It  means  that  I  also  have  some  bordered  with 
brown,  apparently." 

"  Oh,  you  have  some  like  this  ?  and  since  when 
have  you  had  them  ?  " 

"  Since  I  bought  them,  of  course." 

"  And  when  did  you  buy  them." 

"  Good  heavens !  I  don't  remember  the  exact 
date  now." 

"  That's  singular !  you  didn't  tell  me  you  had 
bought  any  other  handkerchiefs." 

"  I  did  not  think  it  a  matter  of  sufficient  impor- 
tance to  make  it  necessary  that  I  should  impart  it 
to  you.  Can  I  no  longer  buy  the  slightest  article 
without  asking  your  permission  ?  " 

"  I  don't  say  that.  But,  of  course,  you  can  see 
that  I  had  reason  to  be  astonished  at  seeing  a  hand- 
kerchief with  a  brown  border." 


254  THE  HUSBANDS 

Monsieur  gets  out  of  bed ;  he  looks  for  his 
trousers,  but  cannot  immediately  find  them;  he 
gets  impatient,  and  rings  for  the  maid.  The  maid 
comes,  and  discovers  her  master  in  rather  uncon- 
ventional attire ;  but  maids  are  used  to  that  sort 
of  thing,  and  it  is  probably  not  dangerous  to  their 
virtue. 

"  Jeannette,  where  are  my  slippers  ?  I  have  been 
looking  for  them  for  an  hour." 

The  maid  shows  monsieur  his  slippers,  placed 
under  the  bed,  behind  a  bedside  table. 

"  There  they  are,  monsieur !  " 

**  Oh,  there  they  are !  But  why  did  you  put 
them  there  ?    Is  that  their  usual  place  ?  " 

"  Mercy,  monsieur,  I  thought  it  would  be  just 
as  well  to  put  them  under  the  bed." 

"  Do  I  put  them  there  of  a  morning  ?  I  usually 
put  them  under  that  armchair  beside  the  fireplace. 
You  must  never  change  the  place.  Another  time, 
be  careful  about  that." 

They  dress,  and  breakfast  is  served.  Madame 
takes  her  coffee  as  she  reads  the  paper.  Monsieur 
makes  toast  in  front  of  the  fire.  Presently  he 
touches  his  wife's  knee. 

"  Did  you  put  another  log  on  the  fire  yesterday 
evening,  after  I  went  out  ?  " 

"  A  log,  my  dear?  What?  What  did  you  say  ? " 

"Why,  I'm  not  talking  Hebrew,  am  I?  When 
I  went  out  yesterday,  at  nine  o'clock,  there  were 
still  two  logs  on  the  fire,  one  large  and  one  small ; 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      255 

that  was  quite  sufficient  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 
As  for  that,  I  don't  want  to  prevent  you  from 
making  a  big  fire  if  you  are  cold,  but  you  must 
give  me  an  account  of  it.  Now  this  morning  I 
find  the  log  at  the  back;  but  there  are  three  charred 
sticks  in  front.  Why  should  there  be  three,  eh, 
if  you  did  not  put  another  log  on  ? " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  how  you  weary  me  with  your 
charred  sticks.  They  put  wood  on,  or  they  do  not 
put  wood  on,  do  you  think  I  take  note  of  that  ? 
I  am  reading  a  story  which  interests  me,  and  you 
interrupt  me  for  a  stick  of  wood." 

Monsieur  holds  his  tongue  ;  he  contents  him- 
self with  whistling  in  a  low  tone,  which  he  always 
does  when  he  receives  an  answer  which  displeases 
him.  He  continues  his  breakfast,  presently  he 
mutters, — 

"  This  milk  isn't  good ;  there's  never  any  cream 
on  it,  and  yet  the  milkwoman  gives  us  less  than 
she  used.  It  seems  to  me  there  might  be  a  jar 
especially  to  get  the  milk  in  ;  then  we  should  be 
able  to  tell  if  the  milkwoman  always  gave  exactly 
the  same  measure.  Eulalie,  have  you  a  jar  for 
that?" 

Eulalie  makes  no  answer,  she  continues  to  read. 

"Tell  me  now,  don't  you  think  I  am  right  ?  In 
having  always  the  same  jar,  one  can  see  at  once  if 
one  has  the  right  quantity  ? " 

Madame  answers  angrily,  but  without  ceasing  to 
read, — 


156  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  will  have  a  jar,  have  ten  jars  if 
you  like,  but  leave  me  alone." 

"  I  did  not  say  ten,  I  said  one.  That  won't 
cost  much.  They  sell  very  pretty  cups  and  milk 
jars  in  colored  earthenware  with  raised  figures. 
I've  priced  them,  and  they  are  worth  twelve  sous. 
I'll  tell  you  where  you  can  get  them.  By  the  way, 
this  butter  isn't  first-class.  How  much  did  you 
pay  for  this  butter,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"  What !  you  don't  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"  The  maid  bought  it." 

"  But  I  presume  you  asked  the  maid  what  she 
paid  for  it  ?  " 

"  Eh !  of  course  !  oh,  it  was  thirty-six  sous,  I 
remember  now." 

"  You  are  not  sure.    Jeannette  !  Jeannette  !  " 

The  servant  comes,  eating  a  surreptitious  morsel. 

"  How  much  was  this  butter,  Jeannette  ?" 

*•  Thirty-six  sous,  monsieur." 

"  The  pound  ? " 

"  Mercy,  it  certainly  was  not  by  the  quart." 

"  I  know  very  well  it  wasn't  by  the  quart ;  but 
it  might  have  been  by  the  kilo'." 

"  What  is  that  —  the  pilo  ?  " 

"  Kilo,  I  said  ;  it  is  the  new  weight ;  you  ought 
to  know  how  to  reckon  by  the  kilo.  In  fact,  your 
butter  cost  more  than  it  was  worth.     I  ate  some 

'A  kilo  it  one  thousand  grammes,  (omewhat  more  than  two  English  pounds 
ia  weight. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK     257 

yesterday  at  breakfast  at  one  of  my  friend's ;  he 
only  paid  thirty-two  sous  and  it  was  better  than 
that." 

"  Did  monsieur  ask  his  friend  the  price  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

Jeannette  is  about  to  depart,  but  monsieur  stops 
her. 

"  What  are  you  eating  for  your  breakfast,  Jean- 
nette ? " 

"  Some  of  the  cold  leg  of  mutton  that  was  left." 

"  Oh,  was  there  not  some  of  the  beef  left  from 
the  day  before  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  idea!  that  was  finished  long  ago." 

The  maid  departs,  and  monsieur  mutters, — 

"  It  seems  to  me,  there  should  still  be  some  of 
the  beef  left."    \ 

When  the  time  for  putting  the  room  in  order 
arrives,  monsieur  is  always  in  the  way  of  the  maid's 
broom;  he  intends  to  see  that  she  leaves  no  dust 
in  the  corners,  and  that  she  thoroughly  dusts  the 
furniture.  The  servant,  made  impatient  by  this, 
always  manages  to  throw  the  sweepings  over  her 
master's  legs. 

If  monsieur  is  going  out  with  madame,  he  ex- 
amines every  portion  of  her  toilet. 

"  Are  you  going  to  put  on  that  gown  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  dear." 

"  It  doesn't  fit  well  at  the  waist.  Oh,  you  are 
going  to  wear  that  lilac  bonnet  ? " 

"  Of  course  ;  is  it  not  pretty  ?  " 

Vol,  XX 


258  THE  HUSBANDS 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is  pretty,  but  I  don't  like  the  flowers 
on  it.  Why,  you've  taken  the  lace  off  that  shawl ! 
why  did  you  do  that?" 

"  Because  it  was  too  fine  for  the  shawl,  which 
has  now  seen  its  best  days." 

"  I  assure  you  it  looked  much  better  with  the 
lace  on." 

Thanks  to  her  husband's  criticisms,  madamc 
makes  her  toilet  all  over  again  or  sometimes  ends 
by  not  going  out  at  all  because  she  has  been  put 
out  of  temper. 

Madame  tells  monsieur  that  she  wants  to  buy 
two  or  three  summer  gowns.  Monsieur  makes  no 
answer;  but  the  next  day  he  comes  in,  carrying 
three  pieces  of  stuff  for  gowns  which  he  has  bought 
for  his  wife.     He  gives  them  to  her,  saying, — 

"  There,  I  hope  they  will  suit  you." 

Madame  pretends  to  be  pleased,  so  as  not  to 
hurt  her  husband's  feelings;  but  the  gowns  he  has 
bought  do  not  please  her  taste,  either  in  color  or 
texture ;  she  wishes  they  were  worn  out,  that  she 
might  have  others.  Had  she  bought  the  dresses 
herself,  she  would  have  chosen  prettier  ones  and 
no  doubt  she  would  have  paid  less  for  them. 

Some  time  before  the  dinner  hour  our  meddle- 
some man  does  not  fail  to  go  into  the  kitchen  to 
ferret  about;  he  uncovers  stewpans  and  sauce- 
pans ;  he  tastes  ragouts,  he  calls  the  cook. 

"  What  is  that,  in  there  ?  " 

"  A  fricassee  of  fowl,  monsieur." 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      259 

"  Have  you  put  mushrooms  in  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  monsieur." 

"That's  singular,  I  don't  find  any.  Oh,  yes, 
I  see  them.     Have  we  meat  soup  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  here  is  the  pot-au-feu." 

"  That's  right!  But  you  put  too  many  vegeta- 
bles in  your  pot,  and  that  spoils  the  bouillon.  How 
many  carrots  did  you  put  in  your  stewpan  ? " 

"  Faith,  monsieur,  as  if  I  could  remember  how 
many.  I  put  in  all  they  gave  me.  Must  I  count 
the  carrots  now  ? " 

"  It  would  be  much  better  if  you  did.  I'll 
wager  there  are  six,  at  least." 

And  monsieur  uncovers  the  stewpan  looks  in 
it,  and  tries  to  count  the  vegetables ;  the  cook, 
enraged  at  seeing  her  master  constantly  in  the 
kitchen,  feels  as  if  she  would  like  to  tie  a  dishcloth 
to  his  coat. 

During  dinner  monsieur  notices  that  his  ser- 
vant's nose  is  red,  that  his  wife  has  affixed  her 
napkin  by  one  pin  instead  of  two,  and  that  her  cat 
is  too  fat. 

In  the  evening  comes  company.  Monsieur 
scolds  the  maid  if  one  of  the  visitors  has  not  wiped 
his  feet  on  the  doormat ;  he  goes  to  see  that  they 
put  sugar  in  the  glasses  of  water ;  it  is  he  who  takes 
a  lady's  hat  and  shawl,  and  puts  it  somewhere, 
saying, — 

"  Be  easy,  I  have  placed  it  in  safety.  When  you 
leave,  remember  to  ask  me  for  it." 


26o  THE  HUSBANDS 

And  when  the  lady  asks  for  her  shawl  they  find 
that  the  cat  has  ruined  it,  because  monsieur,  who 
wants  to  do  everything  better  than  anybody  else, 
has  carried  the  shawl  into  a  room  where  no  one 
goes  except  the  cat. 

When  they  go  to  bed  monsieur  goes  into  every 
room  to  see  that  they  are  in  order. 

He  gets  up  two  or  three  times  to  make  sure 
that  the  maid  has  extinguished  her  candle,  and  to 
see  that  the  doors  are  locked. 

When  a  servant  enters  the  service  of  a  meddle- 
some married  man  she  does  not  usually  make  a 
long  stay  there,  but  presently  demands  her  wages 
and  departs. 

But  this  gentleman's  wife  cannot  do  as  does  the 
domestic. 

Then  there  is  the  husband  who  goes  to  the 
theatre  with  his  wife. 

Madame  has  a  desire  to  go  to  the  Vaudeville ; 
monsieur  says  to  her,  just  as  they  are  leaving  for  the 

play,— 

"  My  darling,  what  they  are  giving  tonight  at 
the  Vaudeville  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  very 
amusing.  Let  us  go  to  the  Fran9ais;  it  seems  to 
me,  that  will  be  preferable." 

"What  are  they  giving  at  the  Fran9ais?" 

"  *  Le  Mariage  de  Figaro.'  " 

"  We  have  seen  that,  I  don't  know  how  many 
times." 

"  All  the  same,  it  is  very  amusing,  and  then  it 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      261 

is  so  well  staged.     Decidedly,  we  must  go  to  the 
Fran9ais." 

Madame  yields  ;  her  husband  wants  to  take  her 
to  the  play  and  that  is  a  great  concession  on  his 
part  already,  so  she  wishes  to  evince  her  gratitude 
and  let  him  conduct  her  to  what  theatre  he  pleases. 

They  reach  the  theatre  and  go  into  a  box,  ma- 
dame  seats  herself  in  the  front,  and  monsieur  has 
a  place  beside  her ;  but  instead  of  looking  at  the 
play  he  fixes  his  lorgnette  on  all  the  ladies  who  are 
in  the  audience,  and  turns  his  back  on  the  actors 
and  his  wife.  The  play  begins,  but  monsieur  con- 
tinues his  inspection  of  the  house,  from  time  to 
time  exclaiming, — 

"  There's  a  woman  who  is  not  half  bad-looking  ; 
but  these  lights  are  so  deceptive.  There's  one 
with  very  beautiful  teeth,  but  what  a  style  her  hair 
is  dressed  in,  and  how  provincial  looking  she  is ! 
How  uncomfortable  it  is  here ;  one  doesn't  know 
where  to  put  one's  knees.  These  boxes  are  far  too 
small ;  they  have  a  genius  for  making  them  as 
though  they  were  to  accommodate  a  race  of  dwarfs. 
I  am  going  to  stand  at  the  back." 

Monsieur  passes  behind  madame  and  continues 
his  oglings.  His  wife  ventures  a  remark  as  to  the 
merits  of  an  actor,  and  he  answers  her, — 

"  Eh  ?  what  did  you  say  ?  By  Jove  !  I  didn't 
hear  that  part." 

After  a  few  moments,  monsieur  places  himself 
in  the  front  again,  exclaiming, — 


262  THE  HUSBANDS 

"One  can  see  nothing  at  all  from  the  back; 
these  boxes  are  very  ill-constructed." 

He  turns  his  glasses  on  to  the  body  of  the  house 
and  makes  remarks  to  his  wife,  who  would  rather 
hear  the  play.  During  the  following  act,  monsieur 
sees  one  of  his  friends  at  the  entrance  to  the  bal- 
cony and  goes  to  talk  with  him.  He  comes  in 
again  as  the  act  is  drawing  to  a  close,  and  soon 
leaves  the  box  again  to  walk  in  the  foyer.  This 
time  he  remains  outside  for  a  long  time.  When 
he  comes  back  the  fourth  act  has  begun,  and  his 
wife  says  to  him,  in  a  rather  displeased  tone, — 

"  Why,  where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"In  the  foyer,  talking  with  some  acquaintances." 

**  And  I  stayed  alone." 

"  By  Jove  !  my  dear,  I  can't  stay  nailed  to  the 
same  place  during  the  whole  evenings  it  makes  me 
fidgety,  and  then,  when  I  try  to  talk  with  you,  you 
don't  answer." 

"  I  was  listening  to  the  play." 

"  The  play  !  why,  good  heavens !  we  know  it  by 
heart,  we  have  seen  it  ten  times. 

"  It  is  so  well  staged  and  played." 

"Yes,  yes,  but  I've  seen  them  all  in  it  before. 
Boxkeeper  !  boxkeeper !  " 

The  boxkeeper  appears  at  the  door  of  the  box. 

"  Give  me  the  evening  paper,  the  *  Moniteur,* 
the  *  Messager,'  no  matter  which  —  that  I  may 
have  something  to  read." 

The  boxkeeper  gives  monsieur  a  paper,  our  hus- 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      263 

band  devours  its  contents,  and  the  act  finishes 
without  his  saying  a  word  to  his  wife  or  listening 
to  the  scene  that  is  being  played. 

During  the  next  pause  between  the  acts,  which 
is  the  last  one,  he  insists  on  going  out  to  buy  some 
oranges ;  but  his  wife  tells  him  very  positively  that 
she  does  not  wish  him  to  go.  He  is,  perforce, 
obliged  to  remain  in  the  box  ;  but  he  gets  up  and 
sits  down  again  every  moment ;  he  again  directs 
his  lorgnette  on  a  rather  pretty  person  whom  he  has 
perceived  in  the  box  opposite,  and  that  he  may  the 
better  observe  her,  he  turns  his  back  on  his  wife. 

They  begin  the  fifth  act,  and  madame  cannot 
help  saying  to  her  husband, — 

"  Really,  you  have  a  very  singular  fashion  of 
conducting  yourself  at  a  play,  if  some  of  our  ac- 
quaintances should  see  you  turning  your  back  on 
me  they  would  think  that  we  were  very  uncom- 
fortable in  our  domestic  life." 

Monsieur  turns  round  so  he  can  look  at  the 
stage,  muttering, — 

"  Oh,  of  course,  if  it  vexes  you ;  that's  a  differ- 
ent matter." 

The  play  goes  on,  and  monsieur  does  not  stir. 
When  the  curtain  falls  madame  turns  towards  him, 
to  see  if  he  is  satisfied  ;  and  she  then  discovers  that 
her  husband  is  fast  asleep.  She  nudges  him,  and 
he  opens  his  eyes  and  tries  to  appear  wide  awake. 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  "  he  exclaims,  "  they  played 
it  to  perfection.     I  am  very  much  pleased." 


264  THE  HUSBANDS 

So  they  go  home  ;  butmadame  says  to  herself, — 

"  It  seems  to  me  he  mightjust  as  well  have  taken 
me  to  the  Vaudeville." 

I  do  not  quite  know  why  I  make  a  separate  class 
of  the  licentious  married  man ;  for,  with  very  few 
exceptions,  they  (the  married  men)  are  all  more  or 
less  so. 

They  always  say  to  themselves,  when  they 
marry :  "  Now,  that  is  all  past  and  done  with ; 
I  am  going  to  be  virtuous.  I  have  done  enough 
folly.  I  know  life;  and,  after  all,  that  sort  of  thing 
is  monotonous.  I  am  quite  resolved  to  be  faithful 
to  my  wife." 

Some  months  later,  the  married  man  flirts,  tries 
to  be  pleasing,  captivating,  whenever  he  is  with  a 
pretty  woman  ;  he  ogles,  sighs,  and  even  ventures 
declarations  —  precisely  as  if  he  were  not  a  mar- 
ried man — of  course,  those  who  are  prudent  abstain 
from  writing  love  letters,  or  if  they  are  obliged  to 
employ  epistolary  communication,  they  disguise 
their  writing,  do  not  sign  it,  or  sign  it  with  a  ficti- 
tious name — a  conventional  name.  "Verba  volant, 
scripta  manent." 

Nearly  all  these  gentlemen  assume  a  pretty  nick- 
name, that  their  wives  have  never  known  them  by, 
and  in  the  circles  where  they  go  as  bachelors,  at 
the  sly  parties,  at  grisettes*  and  kept  women's 
abodes,  M.  Dupontcalls  himself  Arthur,  M.  Benoit 
gives  himself  the  name  of  Charles,  M.  Durand 
makes  them  call  him  Isidore,  and  so  on. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK     26s 

The  porter  is  always  instructed,  these  gentle- 
men do  not  fail  to  say  to  him, — 

"  If  any  letters  come  for  M.  Isidore  give  them 
to  me ;  but  only  when  I  am  alone,  never  before 
my  wife." 

The  married  men  know  how  to  help  each  other, 
serve  each  other  in  their  little  gallant  intrigues,  too. 

Thus,  monsieur  has  an  appointment  for  the  next 
day  with  a  sensitive  young  person,  to  whom  he  is 
going  to  give  a  little  dinner  in  a  private  room  in 
a  restaurant,  He  goes  in  search  of  one  of  his 
friends,  a  married  man  like  himself,  and  whose 
heart  is  as  easily  inflamed  as  his  own.  He  takes 
him  aside  and  says  to  him, — 

"  Tomorrow,  I  dine  with  you." 

"  What,  tomorrow  ?  Why,  I  don't  know  about 
that." 

"  Listen  to  me  :  tomorrow,  it  is  understood  that 
I  dine  with  you  at  a  restaurant,  a  bet  —  a  party 
arranged  for  sometime  —  you  understand.  I  have 
told  my  wife  that,  because  tomorrow  I  am  not 
going  home  to  dinner ;  do  you  take  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  good  ;  that  will  suit  me  perfectly,  for 
I  happen  to  dine  in  town  tomorrow  myself." 

"  If  you  have  time  to  drop  in  for  a  moment,  you 
can  speak  of  our  dinner  before  my  wife,  and  that 
will  seem  quite  natural." 

"Willingly.     I'll  call  in  on  you  presently." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  fellow,  I'll  do  as  much 
for  you  some  time,  you  know." 


266  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  Confound  it !  that's  all  right." 

During  the  day  the  friend  calls  on  our  seductive 
married  man,  and  does  not  fail  to  say  to  him,  in 
his  wife's  presence, — 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  we  dine  together  tomorrow; 
I  hope  you  haven't  forgotten  it." 

"  At  five  o'clock  at  the  Rotonde,  I  believe." 

"Five  o'clock  to  the  minute  —  military  time. 
Madame,  I  hope  you'll  forgive  me  for  taking  your 
husband  away  from  you  tomorrow ;  but  it's  a  stag 
party,  and  has  been  agreed  on  for  a  long  time.  As 
for  that,  you  can  be  easy,  we  shall  be  very  pru- 
dent." 

And  madame  has  the  goodness  to  answer, — 

"  I  am  always  easy  when  I  know  my  husband 
is  with  you." 

The  licentious  married  man  ordinarily  has  little 
to  say  to  his  wife;  he  rarely  opposes  her,  he  prom- 
ises her  all  that  she  wants  —  she  desires  to  go  to 
a  concert,  to  the  Bois-de-Boulogne,  to  see  a  play 
that  is  having  a  great  run,  to  pass  a  day  in  the  coun- 
try ;  he  always  answers, — 

"  Yes,  we'll  go,  I'll  take  you  there  —  I  promise 
you. 

These  promises  are  unceasingly  renewed,  but 
are  never  realized.  Sometimes  she  gets  impatient, 
and  says, — 

"  You  have  been  promising  me  to  go  into  the 
country  for  a  century.  The  weather  is  delightful 
—  why  can't  we  go  today  ?  " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      267 

"  I  can't  go  today,  I  have  business —  I've  two 
lawyers  to  see." 

"  Well,  tomorrow,  then." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Why  no,  now  I  think  of  it  that  is 
impossible ;  tomorrow  I  must  go  to  a  creditors' 
meeting,  I  can't  absent  myself  from  that." 

"The  day  after  tomorrow,  then." 

Forced  into  his  last  intrenchmcnts,  monsieur 
answers, — 

"  The  day  after  tomorrow,  that  is  settled." 

"  I  shall  dress  myself  early.  We  thall  start  at 
noon,  shall  we  not  ?  " 

"  At  noon,  yes,  my  dearest." 

Upon  the  day  appointed  madame  hastens  to 
dress  for  the  occasion ;  she  is  ready  a  little  before 
noon  and  asks  the  maid  where  her  husband  is. 

"  Monsieur  went  out  at  eleven  o'clock,  but  he 
said  he  would  soon  be  in." 

Madame  waits.  An  hour  passes,  then  another. 
Madame  loses  all  hope,  she  sadly  takes  off  her 
bonnet  and  shawl  and  her  gown.  At  length,  at 
four  o'clock,  monsieur  arrives,  all  out  of  breath, 
all  in  a  perspiration,  and  looking  extremely  tired. 

"What!  you  are  not  ready?"  says  he  to  his 
wife. 

"  Ready  ?  I  was  ready  at  noon,  I  was  still  so  at 
one  o'clock,  at  two,  but,  seeing  you  did  not  come, 
I  changed  my  things." 

"  Had  I  known  that,  I  should  not  have  hurried 
so  much," 


268  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  Oh,  you  hurried,  did  you  ?  and  you  get  here 
at  four  when  we  were  to  have  started  at  twelve." 

"  I  could  not  help  it,  I  met  some  people  and 
they  delayed  me." 

"  You  are  always  meeting  some  people.  It  would 
be  much  better  to  tell  me  you  don't  wish  to  go 
out  with  me,  that  would  have  been  frank,  and  I 
should  not  have  had  the  trouble  of  dressing  and 
waiting  for  you." 

"  Oh,  if  you  are  going  to  quarrel  and  cry  and 
scold,  I  shall  go  out,"  and  monsieur  takes  his  hat 
and  disappears.  This  is  how  most  of  the  excur- 
sions planned  by  this  gentleman  and  his  wife  turn 
out. 

Sometimes,  however,  monsieur  cannot  escape 
going  out  with  his  wife ;  the  latter  looks  very  nice, 
and  is  quite  proud  of  going  out  on  her  husband's 
arm ;  the  thing  is  sufficiently  rare  to  seem  excep- 
tionally delightful.  But  hardly  has  the  couple  got 
to  the  end  of  the  street  than  monsieur  seems  to  be 
struck  by  a  sudden  idea,  stops  and  exclaims, — 

"  By  Jove,  there's  that  attorney  waiting  for  me — 
I  must  at  least  go  and  tell  him  I  can't  be  with  him. 
It's  not  two  steps  from  here  —  wait,  dearest!  go 
right  straight  on,  you  turn  to  the  left  on  the  boule- 
vard, and  keep  on  the  same  side.  I'll  be  with  you 
again  directly."  And,  before  madame  has  had  time 
to  object,  her  husband  has  disappeared  and  left  her 
alone  in  the  middle  of  the  street.  She  decides  to 
walk  slowly  on ;  she  keeps  to  the  way  that  her 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      269 

husband  has  indicated  to  her  on  the  left  of  the 
boulevards  ;  she  walks  thus  for  several  hours,  but 
she  does  not  see  her  husband  again,  and  at  last  is 
obliged  to  go  home  alone.  In  the  evening,  mon- 
sieur says  to  her  when  he  comes  in, — 

"  I  can't  imagine  how  I  missed  you,  I  looked 
for  you  everywhere ;  ten  times  did  I  go  all  along 
the  boulevards  but  could  not  see  you." 

When  the  married  man  pays  court  to  a  woman 
who  is  free,  the  latter  ordinarily  says  to  him, — 

"  But  what  if  your  wife  should  learn  you  are 
courting  other  women  ?"  and  our  husband  invari- 
ably answers, — 

"  Oh  by  Jove,  do  you  suppose  my  wife  bothers 
her  head  about  that?  In  the  first  place  she  is  in 
ill-health — nearly  always  ill  —  so  you  can  imagine 
—  Provided  she  has  all  that  she  needs  at  home, 
that  she  can  make  her  broths  and  herb  teas,  super- 
intend her  cooking  and  scold  her  maid,  she  is 
happy." 

But  what  these  gentlemen  say  does  not  prevent 
the  ladies  from  being  very  well,  or  from  thinking 
of  something  other  than  herb  teas  and  their 
cooking. 

In  truth,  when  one  sees  all  the  bother,  all  the 
efforts  of  the  imagination,  all  the  fears,  all  the 
journeys,  all  the  fatigues  which  are  encountered  by 
the  married  man  who  runs  after  the  women,  one 
wonders  if  these  gentlemen  would  not  be  happier 
in  loving  their  wives.     Do  you  not  think  they 


270  THE  HUSBANDS 

resemble  those  rebellious  individuals — against  the 
law  and  the  National  Guard  —  who  to  escape  the 
orders  of  the  sergeant-major  and  the  gendarmes 
who  pursue  the  refractory,  pass  their  time  in  mov- 
ing, in  changing  their  names  and  their  neighbor- 
hoods, in  hiding  and  running  away  —  and  who 
would  give  themselves  much  less  trouble  if  they 
quietly  took  their  turn  in  mounting  guard. 

The  gay,  pleasure-loving  married  man  passes  in 
the  world  for  a  good  fellow.  Each  one  says,  in 
speaking  of  him, — 

"  Do  you  know  so-and-so  ?  What  an  excellent 
fellow  he  is !  always  in  a  good-humor.  How 
happy  his  wife  must  be." 

Is  it  quite  certain  that  his  wife's  fate  is  to  be 
envied?  If  she  lives  in  the  city,  there  are  but  few 
days  on  which  her  husband  does  not  bring  some 
one  to  dinner ;  she  expects  four  persons  and  he  has 
invited  six,  and  does  not  tell  her  until  almost  din- 
ner-time. Madame  is  then  obliged  to  run  here 
and  there  to  add  to  her  bill  of  fare ;  and  while  she 
is  giving  herself  an  immense  amount  of  trouble  to 
prepare  for  the  suitable  entertainment  of  the  guests 
her  husband  has  brought,  the  latter  amuses  him- 
self, laughs,  smokes,  plays  billiards  or  cards,  up  to 
the  moment  that  madame,  quite  wearied  by  the 
additional  trouble  he  has  given  her,  announces  to 
the  company  that  dinner  is  served. 

At  table,  our  gay  married  man  is  in  a  delightful 
humor ;  provided,  however,  that  the  roast  be  not 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      271 

burned,  that  the  wine  be  uncorked,  and  the  coffee 
hot.  If  one  of  these  things  fail  he  will  swear  ener- 
getically enough,  as  he  says, — 

"  Why,  that  is  detestable.  My  dear,  you  must 
see,  another  time,  that  they  pay  more  attention  to  it." 

And  the  poor  woman,  who  for  several  hours  has 
not  even  had  time  to  cool  her  flushed  face, 
answers  gently, — 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  it  is  because  they  were — a  little 
hurried  —  but  it  will  not  happen  again." 

After  dinner,  monsieur  thinks  of  nothing  but 
passing  the  evening  cheerfully  with  his  friends. 
Every  kind  of  diversion  is  to  his  liking,  even  those 
which  require  people  to  get  upon  the  furniture,  to 
tear  the  curtains,  throw  water  and  turn  everything 
upside  down. 

If  he  has  a  garden,  the  guests  may  run  about 
there,  play,  tread  down  the  grass,  walk  on  the  bor- 
ders, lay  waste  the  flowers,  pick  the  fruits,  break 
the  branches  ;  our  man  is  the  first  to  encourage  his 
friends  to  do  all  these  things. 

"  Pshaw  ! "  he  says  to  them,  "  we  must  amuse 
ourselves.  Roll  on  the  grass,  frolic  about,  break 
things  !  Why,  it  is  positively  necessary  that  we 
should  laugh  a  bit  now  and  then." 

And  the  next  day  it  will  give  madame  a  good 
day's  work  to  repair  the  damages  committed  in  her 
domicile. 

When  monsieur  takes  his  pleasure  away  from 
home,  his  wife  is  at  least  quiet ;  but  often  enough 


272  THE  HUSBANDS 

our  gay  man  comes  home  indisposed,  from  an  ex- 
cess of  truffled  turkey,  champagne  or  punch.  And 
instead  of  going  peaceably  to  sleep,  madame  must 
make  tea,  she  must  administer  all  kinds  of  things 
to  her  husband  —  in  fact,  she  must  pass  the  night 
in  caring  for  him. 

And  then  these  men  of  pleasure  have  very  little 
disposition  for  business,  for  work,  for  earning 
money,  in  fact,  —  they  only  know  how  to  spend 
it.  And  when  a  creditor  comes,  our  man  makes 
his  escape  as  quickly  as  possible,  saying, — 

"  You  must  go  to  my  wife ;  I  never  interfere 
with  such  details  as  this." 

This  inclines  me  to  think  that  in  a  household 
where  the  husband  is  a  gay  spirit,  it  is  he  who  must 
be  very  happy. 

Beware,  gentlemen,  of  proving  careless  hus- 
bands, for  carelessness  is  nearly  allied  to  indiffer- 
ence, and  the  ladies  sometimes  revenge  themselves 
on  an  indifferent  husband. 

The  careless  husband  comes  in,  goes  out,  stays 
away,  without  ever  troubling  himself  as  to  what 
is  taking  place  in  his  household.  If  the  maid  says 
to  him,  "  Madame  has  gone  out " ;  he  only  says, 
"  Ah,"  in  a  tone  that  is  equivalent  to  "  very  good." 
If  later  on  they  tell  him,  "  Madame  hasn't  come 
back  yet  "  ;  or,  "  Madame  is  dining  in  the  city," 
he  reiterates  his  "  Ah  !  "  and  says  nothing  more. 

Do  not  imagine  that  he  will  inquire  what  time 
madame  went  out,  or  where  she  is  gone  or  with 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      273 

whom  she  is  dining;  he  does  not  even  think  of 
putting  a  single  one  of  those  questions. 

Sometimes  when  he  comes  home  unexpectedly, 
which,  however,  is  not  his  habit,  he  will  find  a 
young  man,  whom  he  has  never  seen  before,  with 
his  wife.  The  young  man  bows  and  the  husband 
greets  him  with  politeness,  while  his  wife  says, — 

"  You  don't  know  this  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  Why,  no  —  no,  I  can't  recall  him." 

"  We  met  monsieur  at  Madame  B *s,  he  had 

the  kindness  to  accompany  me  on  the  piano  and 
afterwards  sang  a  duet  with  me." 

"  Oh,  very  good  1  very  good  !  I  think  I  do 
remember  now.  Monsieur  has  a  very  pleasing 
voice." 

"  Monsieur  begged  permission  to  come  and  have 
a  little  music  with  me  sometimes,  and  when  you 
came  in  we  were  just  beginning  a  piece." 

"  Very  well,  so  do  !  so  do !  I  won't  disturb  you. 
Monsieur  is  very  kind  to  come  and  see  us,  and  I 
am  delighted  that  he  should  make  you  sing ;  that 
will  keep  you  in  voice,  for  the  voice  needs  culti- 
vating." 

Our  careless  husband  listens  to  the  music  for  a 
few  moments,  but  later  leaves  them  together  and 
goes  to  his  study  to  attend  to  his  business  affairs. 

However,  the  young  man,  who  probably  has 
developed  a  taste  for  duets  as  practised  by  himself 
and  madame,  comes  every  day  and  sometimes, 
even,  in  the  evenings. 

Vol,  XX 


274  THE  HUSBAND'S 

Do  not  suppose  that  the  husband  sees  anything 
extraordinary  in  this  assiduity,  so  far  from  that,  he 
is  so  used  to  seeing  the  young  man  with  his  wife 
that  when  he  does  not  find  him  there  he  will  ask, — 

"  Where  is  Arthur?  "  or  Edouard  ?  or  Alfred  ? 
as  the  case  may  be.  "Why  did  he  not  come  ?  Can 
he  be  ill  ?  Have  you  sent  to  inquire  at  his  house  ? " 
and  a  thousand  other  questions  of  the  same  kind. 

When  they  go  for  a  walk,  madame  takes  her 
Sigisbe's  arm  and  her  husband  walks  beside  her  or 
in  front  or  behind,  it  does  not  matter  to  him  which. 

Madame  goes  to  a  ball,  a  concert,  a  play,  when- 
ever it  pleases  her,  and  with  whoever  she  likes  ; 
the  husband  never  thinks  anything  of  it.  Madame 
often  goes  out  very  early  to  the  bath ;  and  some- 
times comes  home  very  tired  and  with  either  very 
red  or  very  pale  cheeks,  and  with  her  dress  and 
collar  singularly  disarranged.  The  servants  notice 
all  these  things,  but  monsieur  pays  no  attention  to 
them. 

Monsieur  has  a  salary  of  a  thousand  crowns,  or 
a  business  which  brings  him  in  four  or  five  thou- 
sand francs  per  annum.  This  does  not  permit  him 
to  give  his  wife  a  cashmere  shawl,  nor  to  buy  her 
velvet  gowns. 

However,  she  wears  a  cashmere,  and  has  jewels 
of  the  latest  fashion ;  she  trims  her  gowns  with 
English  embroidery,  and  monsieur  does  not  say, — 

"  How  comes  it  that  you  have  a  cashmere  ? 
How  did  you  manage  to  pay  for  those  jewels  ? " 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK       275 

And  sometimes  the  house  exhibits  an  amount  of 
elegance  and  luxury  that  is  not  at  all  in  accord  with 
the  husband's  income.  Still  the  husband  never 
remarks, — 

"  How  in  the  world  is  it  that  we  can  afford  all 
these  things  ? " 

Here  carelessness  reaches  a  point  where  it  might 
be  called  by  another  name.  I  do  not  wish  to  say 
what  sobriquet  might  be  applied  to  a  married  man 
who  acts  thus. 

Following  this  portrait  of  the  careless  husband 
comes  that  of  a  jealous  one. 

When  a  man  is  married,  he  should  take  this 
stand, — 

"  Either  my  wife  will  be  untrue  to  me,  or  she 
will  not  be  untrue  to  me."  (No  one  can  possibly 
contest  the  truth  of  this  proposition.)  "  If  she  be 
untrue  to  me,  she  does  not  deserve  that  I  should 
vex  myself,  that  I  should  suffer,  that  I  should  make 
myself  unhappy  in  the  fear  of  losing  her  heart ;  if 
she  be  true  to  me,  I  should  be  extremely  wrong 
to  doubt  her.  Thus,  either  in  one  hypothesis  or 
in  the  other,  I  should  still  do  very  wrong  to  be 
jealous." 

It  seems  to  me  this  is  an  argument  "  ad  homi- 
nem."  Why,  it  is  exactly  as  though  I  had  said 
nothing  ;  and  that  does  not  prevent  any  one  from 
being  jealous,  because  that  feeling  permits  of  no 
argument. 

A  married  man  who  is  jealous  is  unhappy  and 


276  THE  HUSBANDS 

makes  everybody  about  him  unhappy.  The  most 
harmless  occurrence  gives  rise  in  his  mind  to  a 
thousand  suspicions.  Then  he  plagues  his  wife, 
is  short  with  his  children,  scolds  his  maid,  and  beats 
his  dog  —  if  he  has  one. 

When  people  gamble  in  the  lottery,  those  who 
have  a  passion  for  this  kind  of  play  find  in  every- 
thing they  see,  everything  they  hear,  everything 
they  dream,  a  motive  to  stake  their  money  on  such 
or  such  a  number.  If  they  have  dreamed  of  a  cat, 
they  hasten  to  put  something  on  forty-four  and 
eighty-eight.  If  they  meet  a  drunkard,  they  must 
play  the  seventy-seven  and  the  thirteen. 

A  cab  passes,  they  must  stake  on  its  number; 
if  it  is  over  ninety,  they  dissect  the  number  and 
find  therein  three  winning  numbers,  or  even  four. 
Some  one  raps  three  times  on  the  floor  in  the 
morning,  that  is  a  warning  direct  from  Providence 
and  they  must  play  three. 

In  looking  at  a  wall  they  see  strange  designs 
which  seem  to  represent  numbers  ;  in  looking  at 
the  stars,  they  represent  numbers,  in  the  bottom 
of  a  coflFee  cup  they  perceive  figures ;  on  the  snow, 
in  the  sand,  in  the  fire  ;  everywhere,  in  fact,  and  in 
everything,  they  find  reasons  for  putting  into  the 
lottery. 

The  jealous  man  is  exactly  like  these  patrons  of 
the  lottery. 

If  his  wife  sleeps  badly,  it  is  because  she  is  pre- 
occupied about  something.  She  has  dreamed  aloud. 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      277 

she  has  spoken  of  monsieur  such-a-one,  and  of 
the  Grand  Turk  ;  true,  she  is  not  in  love  with  the 
Grand  Turk,  but  she  may  be  with  monsieur  such- 
a-one. 

Madame  gets  up  early  and  makes  no  noise, 
thinking  that  her  husband  is  still  asleep,  but  the 
latter,  who  always  sleeps  with  one  eye  open,  says 
to  her, — 

"  Devil  take  it ;  you  use  much  precaution  in 
getting  up  this  morning  —  you  are  afraid  of  wak- 
ing me,  it  would  seem." 

"  My  dear,  as  I  thought  you  were  asleep  it 
seemed  to  me  I  ought  to  make  no  noise." 

"  Ah,  no  doubt  you  did  not  wish  to  awaken  me, 
a  sleeping  husband  is  more  convenient.  Why  did 
you  get  up  so  early  this  morning  ?  What  are  you 
hurrying  for?" 

"  Nothing ;  but  I  could  sleep  no  longer,  besides, 
it  is  quite  time  to  get  up." 

Madame  dresses  herself.  Monsieur  looks  at  her 
from  head  to  foot ;  with  a  glance  he  has  taken  in 
every  part  of  her  toilet. 

"What  have  you  put  that  gown  on  for?  "  he 
exclaims  ;  "  are  you  going  out  ?" 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  doing  so.  This  gown 
is  one  of  those  I  habitually  wear  in  the  house." 

"  And  that  cap  ?  one  would  say  you  had  some- 
thing on  hand  today." 

"What  do  you  mean?  something  on  hand? 
don't  I  usually  put  on  a  cap  ?  " 


278  THE  HUSBANDS 

"  Yes,  but  sometimes  there  is  a  little  more  par- 
ticularity in  the  way  of  putting  it  on." 

Madame  shrugs  her  shoulders,  and  does  not 
answer. 

If  monsieur  has  an  appointment,  and  his  wife 
says  to  him,  "My  dear  this  is  the  time  you  ap- 
pointed to  do  so-and-so  "  ;  he  will  answer,  "  You 
are  in  a  great  hurry  to  have  me  go  out." 

If  madame  goes  out  he  counts  the  minutes  till 
she  comes  back  again.  He  knows  where  she  is 
going,  what  purchases  she  is  to  make  and  with 
whom  she  has  to  speak ;  he  has  calculated  how 
long  it  will  take  her  to  do  all  that ;  he  has  traced 
the  itinerary  of  her  route,  she  must  not  turn  aside 
from  it. 

If  madame  remains  out  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
longer  than  the  time  calculated  by  her  husband,  or 
if  he  should  meet  her  in  another  street  than  one  of 
those  she  has  mentioned  to  him  —  he  concludes 
from  that,  that  his  wife  has  intrigues. 

If  madame  does  not  eat  at  dinner,  that  is  sus- 
picious ;  she  must  have  had  something  outside. 
If  she  has  a  good  appetite,  that  also  is  suspicious. 
What  has  she  been  doing  to  get  such  an  appetite 
as  that? 

If  she  prefers  one  theatre  to  another  that  is  suspi- 
cious. Probably  she  has  made  an  appointment 
with  some  one  and  wants  to  go  where  she  hopes 
to  meet  the  person  in  whom  she  is  interested. 

If  she  refuses  to  go  out  in  the  evening  with  her 


CHARLES  PAUL  DE  KOCK      279 

husband,  it  is  very  suspicious  ;  she  must  be  expect- 
ing to  receive  some  one  when  she  is  alone.  If  she 
urges  her  husband  not  to  go  out,  but  to  stay  with 
her,  it  is  very  suspicious ;  it  is  because  she  wants 
to  dissipate  all  the  suspicions  her  husband  might 
conceive,  and  in  acting  thus  she  really  hopes  that 
he  will  go  out. 

If  she  is  cold  and  does  not  respond  to  her  hus- 
band's caresses,  that  is  extremely  suspicious  ;  it  is 
that  she  loves  another  and  her  husband's  caresses 
weary  her.  If  she  is  very  loving,  very  lavish  of  her 
caresses,  that  is  still  more  suspicious;  she  is  man- 
aging so  as  to  hide  from  her  husband  the  love  she 
feels  for  another. 

If  she  speaks  often  of  a  certain  gentleman,  that 
is  always  suspicious ;  as  it  shows  that  she  often 
thinks  of  him.  If  she  never  speaks  of  him,  that 
is  to  hide  her  game.  If  she  speaks  ill  of  him,  that 
is  bad  too;  for  she  does  it  so  her  husband  may  not 
be  jealous  of  him. 

And  so  on  and  so  on.  I  might  go  on  like  this 
for  a  very  long  time ;  for  you  see  very  well  that 
it  is  limitless,  and  exactly  like  the  gambler  in  a  lot- 
tery who  sees  numbers  in  everything. 

To  sum  up,  jealousy  is  a  very  sad  thing — which 
sometimes  turns  to  tragedy,  as  in  the  case  of 
Othello. 

It  is  a  well-confirmed  fact  that  jealousy  does  not 
preserve  anything,  and  prevents  nothing.  Some- 
times, on  the  contrary,  it  gives  a  woman  the  desire 


28o  THE  HUSBANDS 

to  do  what  she  else  had  never  thought  of,  for  noth- 
ing exasperates  like  injustice. 

And,  then,  a  jealous  man  is  tiresome  ;  a  tiresome 
man  is  very  contrary,  very  unamiable,  very  sad,  and 
people  get  into  the  habit  of  rejoicing  when  he  is 
not  there. 

Happy  the  husbands  who  are  not  —  (I  was  still 
going  to  say  jealous). 

As  for  the  husband  who  is  —  what  you  know 
well,  that  makes  absolutely  no  change  in  his  face, 
his  deportment,  his  manners  or  his  way  of  express- 
ing himself. 

"  Ab  uno  disce  omnes." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


''''1(3  1  1  i9/1 


Porm  L9— Series  444 


UC  SOUTHERN  FtaO^^WflYMOm 

iniiinMiiin 

A    000  160  669    8 


